


The Guardian: The Apocalypse

by kateyes085



Series: The Guardian [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst and Humor, F/M, Heterosexual Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyes085/pseuds/kateyes085
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where do you go when all the demons in Hell and all the angels and Heaven are after you? Home. Or the closest thing Dean Winchester ever knew to being a home as a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of the actual dialog during Season 5 has been used, transcripts of which can be found at Supernatural Wiki. I transcribe verbatim for a living and you guys are awesome for doing this. I thought I was going to have to do it and it turned out to be a huge timesaver.

~*~

 __

###   
_Clark’s Island, Massachusetts, June 1991_   


“You’re doin’ it wrong Sammy,” Lizzie screeched. “Stop it! You’re gonna kill ‘em.”

Sammy whined, “No I’m not! Dean said …”

“Psfst! What does Dean know? He’s just a big ol’ meanie. Gampa said ya’ hafta hold ‘em gently in your hands or you’ll crush ‘em,” Lizzie insisted in a superior tone. She glared at Sammy up through her lashes when she blew a chestnut curl out of her eye. Her hair never stayed in place. _Blast it!_

Sammy gasped and sputtered still holding his hands closed but not as tightly. “What does Dean know? He knows everythin’, well not everything, but I mean Dad I’m sure knows how to … why’re you scrunching your nose like that?” He asked scrunching his nose, mimicking her, as he opened his hands for her to see their treasure. He rubbed his other, sweaty, grimy hand on the pant leg of his too big shorts, which were also smeared with grass stains and dirt.

“I don’t like your Daddy. He gets mean like mine does when he drinks the beer stuff.” She whispered to Sammy, putting her hand on his arm to lessen the sting of the truth.

Sammy knew his Dad drank _a lot_. He could smell it all the time, sour and bitter. Dean always made things better. He always took care of him, made sure he was ready for school, cooked him dinner, and even made sure that he had his favorite cereal, Lucky Charms. Dad probably didn’t even know what his favorite cereal was, Sammy thought to himself.

His hazel eyes looked so sad when he mumbled, “I’m sorry,” to Lizzie as he placed their find in her hand for her to hold for a while. The wind was picking up and tousling his shaggy brown curls. The sun was warm and they were sitting on the downed log under the old apple tree in the backyard.

She smiled up at him. “S’ not your fault, Sammy; at least you’ve got Dean. I don’t have a big brother to take care of me. But, I do have my Gampa.” She beams with a huge smile on her face. “Even if he is married to Gran,” she grumbled. “Nothin’ I do is ever right. I get so mad some times, ya’ know?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he answered, because he did know. His Dad was always correcting him and yelling at him too. Grownups were so hard to figure out sometimes. They were both heavily contemplating as only children can, and did not hear the rustling in the trees above.

All of a sudden, Dean jumped down from the tree overhead. “Whatcha doin’!” he thundered as he landed, crouched in front of them then standing with his hands his hips. Sunlight glinted off his wavy dark blonde hair. His green eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“Dean! You made me drop it! You make me so mad! Don’t you have somethin’ to do?” Lizzie fumed at him stomping her foot, mimicking his stance while she glared up at him.

Sammy was laughing at them both from where he was sitting on the fallen tree trunk. Dean was always picking on Lizzie. She was so tiny too, smaller even than Sammy was and she was _older_ than he was. That didn’t stop her though; she would stand up to anyone. He liked her a whole lot.

Lizzie proceeded to ignore Dean. She rolled her eyes at him, wiped off her hands on her shorts, pushed her hair out of her eyes, again and sat back down with Sammy.

Dean crouched again to see what they are doing. He just could not resist antagonizing Lizzie some more. “Nah, I just like watchin’ you get pissed off, Mouse.” Dean winked and pulled on her pigtail.

“Quit it! Don’t call me that, you creep!” She slapped his hand away. “Dean Michael Winchester! You are so annoying, go away!” She jumped up and kicked him in the shin. He yelped in pain grabbing his shin. She pushed him out of her way, trying to run off, but he lost his balance, fell backwards, trying to grab her to stop his fall but ended up pulling her down on top of him.

“Damn it, Mouse! If you don’t…” Dean started to curse.

Lizzie gasped. Her eyes were huge. She put her hands over his mouth, exclaiming, “Shhhh! They’ll hear you! You shouldn’t say bad words, Dean. You’ll get in to trouble again.” Her violet eyes got impossibly big and her bottom lip quivered.

Dean blinked up at her. _She really does look like one of those cherubs in the paintings in Pastor Jim’s church._ Almond-shaped eyes, flushed round chubby cheeks, and cupid-bow lips, all of that framed by chestnut waves and curls that never stay where she wanted them to.

He blushed at his thoughts and scoffed, “So,” he said, full of bravado.

“I don’t wanna see ya’ getta whippin’ s’all.” She said matter-of-factly, but blushed nonetheless. He smirked up at her; she just rolled her eyes at him and shook her head.

Sammy got up from where he was sitting and ran over with a big smile on his face, telling Lizzie, “I got one. See, I told you I could do it.” He shoved his small hands in Dean’s face while Dean was trying to sit up with a lap full of Lizzie.

“Whatcha got there, Sammy?” Dean asked and Sammy opened his hands to show him. On his palm sat a ladybug walking back and forth fluttering her wings.

“A ladybug? Seriously? You coulda at least have dug up a worm or somethin’.” Dean mocked him, but tousled his hair with affection to lessen his jab.

“Ewww! You’re so gross, Dean.” Lizzie exclaimed scrambling off Dean’s lap to go see the ladybug in Sammy’s hand.

~*~

Thomas Owens watched from the seclusion of his rocker on the porch. He was glad the Winchesters had found their way to his family. Sam and Dean were good boys. They just needed some family structure. Their father is misguided to the point of obsession with revenge for the death of his young wife.

John Winchester met Thomas’ son, Colin, during the war. They were in the same unit and became fast friends, served their tours and went their separate ways. Over the years, however, they had stayed in contact.

Thomas was so sad to hear of John’s sweet Mary perishing in such a horrific manner. Grief-stricken and desperate for answers, John set out to seek revenge against the creature that destroyed his family with his two young sons in tow.

A series of misadventures, disorganized hunts and sheer luck brought the two old friends together again. Now they scour the country ridding the world of evil. When they are close by, John would leave the boys here to attend to his various hunts. This is the first summer that they have actually spent any significant amount of time here. Normally, it is only for a few days at most.

John and Colin were coordinating their efforts to track down the yellow-eyed demon that murdered John’s Mary. The boys had now been here for over two weeks and it was likely they would spend the summer, which was fine. It would be good for Lizbeth. She didn’t really have anyone her own age to play with, other than Johnathon, so it was turning out just fine.

Hunters. He really did not like the lot of them as a whole. Most go off half-cocked without the necessary research and information about their target, usually leading to unfortunate casualties. Figures he married into a family of them.

His Em was a firecracker in her own right. She was a beauty and he did love her, but she was devout to her calling and raised their only son as such. The sun rose and set on that boy, even with all of his faults.

Thankfully, Thomas had waited, he was right that Colin was not to be his successor. He had hoped they would bear another child, but they were not blessed with such. So, he waited; waited, prayed and hoped for the day that God would grace him with his successor.

Colin had a brief affair with Lizbeth’s mother resulting in her pregnancy. Lizbeth’s mother was a drunken whore who was entirely too self-indulgent with her excesses and had overdosed on a cocaine/heroin cocktail a few years ago.

Shortly after Lizbeth was born, Colin showed up on their doorstep with her, handing her off on his way to a hunt. Colin had not even bothered to name her. Em had no patience or tolerance for a little baby, so it was left to Thomas to care of her.

Thomas named her appropriately, Lizbeth “God Is My Oath” Greer “Watchful, Guardian”.

~*~

 __

###   
_St. Mary’s Convent, Ilchester, Maryland, May 2009_   


"I’m sorry …" Sam whimpers as he looks at his brother devastated by what he had done. The floor twists and melts spinning and swirling into a white vortex.

Dean reaches for Sam as they stare in horror. He hears a voice, soft and insistent, **Run Dean, Run. Go now!** “Sammy, let’s go…”

“Dean … He’s coming …” Sam says desperately.

He hears it again, **Dean! You have to go now! Before it’s too late.** “Come on,” Dean urges Sam as he pulls him to the door. The light gets brighter and brighter, engulfing the room. The stench of sulfur hangs strongly in the air. **Dean!** The voice yells.

Sam and Dean try to race to the old wooden door which slams shut, locking them in. They reach it banging helplessly to try to move it, to escape. Dean’s body flips around and he slides up against the door grasping at his neck while an invisible force seems to be choking him. “Dean!” Sam yells.

“Sam,” he hears a voice calling to him through the high-pitched deafening sound that swirls with the light. “I can end this now Sam, is that what you want? I need your permission boy. Say yes to me and I will release him or you will watch him die ... again,” the voice tells him.

"Yes! Yes, anything! Just stop, please," Sam yells at the light. It flashes a brighter, hotter and whiter.

"Anything?" the voice taunts.

"Yes," Sam replies. The bright light vanishes and everything stops. Dean falls to the floor and scrambles back desperately clutching at the hard surface for purchase.

Sam is standing in the middle of the room with his back to Dean. “Sammy?” he says cautiously.

“I’m sorry Dean,” the creature that wore his brother’s face turns and laughs deeply and harshly at him. “Sammy’s long gone I’m afraid.”

"What did you do to my brother?" Dean growls.

"I made him into who he is supposed to be," the creature says. "He is my vessel after all," the creature sneers, twisting Sam's face darkly.

"But, but ... you're still an Angel. You need permission. Sammy didn't ..." Dean, stutters as he tries to rise.

"And he gave it, freely, to save you," Lucifer taunts.

“No Sammy … no …” Dean whispers then growls, “That’s not what he meant ….” as he was engulfed in a flash of white light and felt jerked backwards with a thud.

It takes a minute to get his bearings. He is sitting in an airplane before it hits a wicked patch of turbulence and starts a rapid descent before leveling off.

 **Grahan**[[TW1]]($l ) , the voice says and Dean falls into oblivion.

~*~

Dean walks through Chuck’s devastated house.

He had last been here less than 10 hours before when Castiel transported him to St. Mary’s to stop Sam. That bitch Ruby blocked him from entering, but she got hers in the end, he sneers.

 _I’m sorry_ … Sam said. He sounded so scared. _I couldn’t stop it. I …_ then Dean remembered, that voice … it sounded almost like …

Dean thinks he hears a noise. He looks around, sees nothing and then gingerly keeps looking around. Dean rounds the corner to the kitchen and Chuck lunges out and hits him in the head with a toilet plunger causing him to stumble back. “Ow!” he yells rubbing the spot where Chuck hit him. “What the hell!”

“Dean! You’re okay? You’re here?” he babbles. “The church went nuclear. How are you here?”

“I ended up on an airplane and drove here when we … landed,” he grimaces. “Where’s Cas?”

“He’s dead or gone … or whatever happens to them. The archangel smote the crap outta him,” Chuck says.

“Are you sure? I mean maybe he went into the light or something?” Dean asks uncertainly.

“Oh, no he’s gone, totally gone. He exploded … like a water balloon of chunky soup,” Chuck clarifies.

Dean cringes and takes a closer look at Chuck, waving his hand over his left ear, “You’ve got a …”

Chuck starts waving over his right ear, “Here?”

Dean points to the other side of his head, “It’s um, uh …” waving his hand.

Chuck feels his hair and pulls something out and winces. “Is that a molar?” he asks looking at it and shows it to Dean. Dean dry heaves and nods. “I had a molar in my hair?” Chuck asks in a pinched tone. Dean nods again. “This has been a really stressful day,” he mutters walking off to his bathroom.

“Cas, you stupid bastard,” Dean mutters to himself as he looks around at the carnage.

Chuck comes running back into the room while he wipes off his hands, “Oh crap,” he panics.

“What?” Dean snarls looking around.

“I can feel them,” Chuck answers looking around.

“Thought we'd find you here,” Zachariah smirks. Dean and Chuck turn around to see Zachariah flanked by two angels. “Playtime's over, Dean. Time to come with us, now.”

Dean points at Zachariah, “You just keep your distance, asshat,” he snaps.

“You're upset,” Zachariah cajoles offering his hands up in a placating offering of surrender.

“Yeah. A little,” Dean snarls sarcastically, “You sons of bitches jump-started judgment day!”

“We didn’t start it now did we Dean," he mocks cheerfully. "We just sort of helped it along, and Sam’s the one that delivered it with a bright red bow,” Zachariah winks. “You had your chance to stop your brother, and you couldn't. So let's not quibble over who started what. Let's just say it was … all our faults and move on. 'Cause like it or not …it's _Apocalypse Now_ , and we're back on the same team again,” he claps.

“Is that so?” Dean replies.

“Look, you want to kill the devil; we want you to kill the devil. It's...synergy,” Zachariah explains happily.

“And I'm just supposed to trust you?” Dean asks incredulously. “Cram it with walnuts, fugly,” he snarls acidly.

“This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast,” Zachariah explains. “And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies … the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help," he finishes.

“You listen to me, you two-faced douche. After what you did, I don't want jack squat from you!” Dean yells.

“You listen to me, boy! You think you can rebel against us, as Lucifer did?” Zachariah questions darkly. His face softens in confusion and concern when he notices blood dripping from Dean’s hand, “You're bleeding.”

Dean looks down, “Oh, yeah. A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up,” Dean explains as he pulls the door from the kitchen and slaps his bloody hand on an Angel Banishing Sigil he had drawn there while he covers his eyes.

“No!” Zachariah yells as he and the other angels vanish in a white light. When Dean looks up he snarks, “Learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch.”

“This sucks ass,” Chuck mutters as he goes over and pours two shots of whiskey. “Here,” he hands Dean a tumbler and a piece of paper, “I wrote this just before you got here.”

 _In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs._

“Michael’s sword is on earth. The angels lost it and this is where you can find it.”

~*~

Dean is sitting in a nondescript motel watching TV. John’s journal is lying open next to him while he nurses a beer.

 _How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?_

 _Two words. Carbon emissions._

“Yeah, right, wavy gravy,” Dean snarks at the commentators. There is a knock at the door and Dean pulls his gun before he opens it cautiously to see Bobby on the other side. “Hey, Bobby,” he says letting him in.

Bobby hugs Dean, slapping him on the back, “Good to see in one piece.”

“You weren't followed, were you?” Dean asks.

Bobby glares at Dean, “You mean by angels or demons? So... the sword of Michael, huh?”

Dean nodded in response, “You think we're talking about the actual sword from the actual archangel?”

“You better friggin' hope so,” Bobby replied as he opens a book to a painting of Michael surrounded by other angels. “That's Michael,” he said pointing to the picture. Michael looks like a winged woman and the other angels like naked babies with wings. “Toughest son of a bitch they got.”

Dean flips to another painting, and again, Michael has a feminine face. “You kidding me? Tough? That guy looks like Cate Blanchett.”

“Well, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, believe me,” Bobby grumbled. “He commands the heavenly host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword,” pointing to the sword in the painted Michael's hand. “So if we can find it…”

“We can kick the devil's ass all over again,” Dean mumbled. “Okay. So, where do we start?”

“Divvy up and start reading,” Bobby said, “and let’s try and make sense of Chuck's nonsense.” Dean reaches for a couple of books and sits down to start researching.

“You okay son?” Bobby asks.

“No,” he snaps slamming the book shut in a huff. He looks at Bobby and then back at the book, opening it up angrily, “Looks let’s just work on this and …” they return to their research.

“I never would have guessed that your daddy was right,” Bobby comments.

“About what?” Dean asks.

“About your brother,” Bobby replies causing Dean to look up. “What John said; you save Sam or kill him. Maybe...”

“Maybe what?” Dean snaps.

“Maybe we shouldn't have tried so hard to save him,” Bobby says.

“Bobby,” Dean replies in shock.

“He's ending the world, Dean. And you and I weren't strong enough to stop him proper. That's on us. I'm just saying, your dad was right,” he explains.

“Dad,” Dean mumbles as he jumps up and reaches for his duffle bag. He rummages through his bag and pulls out a plastic Ziploc full of cards. “It's got to be in here somewhere,” he mumbles to himself.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bobby snaps.

“Here,” Dean pulls one out and reads it as he walks over to Bobby. “I don't believe it.”

“What the hell is it?” Bobby asks.

“It's a card for my dad's lockup in upstate New York. Read it,” Dean says.

Bobby takes the card and reads it out loud, "Castle Storage. 42 Rover Hill."

“Castle on a hill of forty-two dogs,” Dean reiterates as he takes the card back.

“So you think your dad had the Michael sword all this time?” Bobby asks.

“I don't know. I'm not sure what else Chuck could have meant,” Dean replies.

“Yeah. Okay. It's good enough for me,” he says before he attacks Dean backhanding him through the barrier between the kitchenette and the beds. Bobby yanks Dean up and slams him down again. Bobby’s eyes go black. He grabs Dean by the throat and drags him to his feet. A female and a male demon enter.

The female demon looks over at Bobby holding Dean up by his throat and says, “I always knew you were a big, dumb, slow, dim pain in the ass, Dean. But I never dreamed you were so V.I.P.” she utters. She sees Ruby's knife on the table and picks it up. “I mean, you're gonna ice the devil? You? If I'd have known that, I'd have ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago,” she croons.

“Ruby?” Dean gasps.

She smirks, “Try again. Go back further.”

“Meg?” he groans incredulously.

“Hi. These are the days of miracle and wonder, Dean. Our father's among us. You know we're all dreaming again for the first time since …” she muses, “… we were human. It's heaven on earth, or hell. We really owe your brother a fruit basket or something,” she guffaws.

“My god, you do like the sound of your own voice,” Dean groans indignantly.

“But you, on the other hand, you're the only bump in the road. So every demon … every single one … is just dying for a piece of you,” she coos.

Dean smirks “Get in line.”

“Oh baby, I'm in the front of the line,” she murmurs grabbing his face and shoving her tongue down his throat causing Dean to wince and try to pull away, immobile in Bobby’s solid grasp.

Meg pulls away and Dean coughs and gags a little bit, “What is that, peanut butter?”

Meg looks over and caresses Bobby’s face, “You know, your surrogate daddy's still awake screaming in there, and I want him to know how it feels slicing the life out of you,” she instructs, as she hands him the knife.

He raises it to Dean’s throat as Dean struggles and yells, “Bobby!”

Bobby looks back at Meg. “Now!” she yells.

Bobby raises the knife to stab Dean again. Dean yells, “Bobby! No!” The black fades from Bobby’s eyes. The knife comes down and Bobby stabs himself in the stomach, killing the demon inside. He collapses to the floor.

Dean rushes Meg and the other demon. Meg cackles in delight as the other demon slams Dean into the wall, then the floor. He kicks Dean who then kicks the demon’s feet out from under him. He yanks the knife out of Bobby’s stomach and stabs the demon in the chest. Dean stands up, and Meg backs away as he advances. She screams as smoke billows out of the woman that she possesses who collapses on the floor.

~*~

Dean bursts into a hospital emergency room, carrying Bobby. Dean yells, “Need some help here!”

A nurse scrambles over to assist, “What happened?”

“He was stabbed,” Dean explains.

“Can we get a gurney?” the nurse yells over her shoulder. Two other nurses rush over with a gurney and help Bobby to lay down on it.

“Hang on, Bobby. Hang in there. You're gonna be okay,” Dean murmurs as they rush Bobby in to be examined.

Dean tries to follow, but the nurse stops him, “Just wait here and don’t move. I’ve got questions,” she tells him before she runs off to assist with her patient.

“Sorry Bobby,” Dean whispers as he backs out and runs for the Impala. He knew that the demons had heard where the sword was and he needs to get there first.

~*~

The Impala turns into the parking lot of Castle Storage. Dean opens the trunk and loads his shotgun. He looks around to make sure the coast is clear. He closes the trunk and walks over to unlock the storage room. He enters the room with his shotgun ready finding dead demons sprawled across the floor.

“I see you told the demons where the sword is,” Zachariah said from a dark corner. Dean turns to see him flanked by two of his angel escorts.

“Oh, thank god. The angels are here,” Dean snarks.

“And to think...they could have grabbed it any time they wanted,” Zachariah marvels. He waves his hand to close the door. “It was right in front of them the whole time.”

“Huh?” Dean questions with a look of confusion.

“We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael sword. We truly couldn't find it. Until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us,” he explains.

“I don't have anything,” Dean says clearly confused.

“It's you, chucklehead. You're the Michael sword,” Zachariah states as if he was speaking to a simple child. “What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just a human, Dean. And not much of one."

“What do you mean I'm the sword?” Dean questions.

“You're Michael's weapon. Or, rather, his...receptacle,” he explains.

“I'm a vessel?” Dean asks.

“You're _the_ vessel. Michael's vessel,” Zachariah says trying to sell Dean on the idea.

“How? Why—why me?” Dean stutters.

“Because you're chosen! It's a great honor, Dean,” Zachariah explains closing his deal.

“Oh yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks,” he snarks.

“Joking. Always joking. Well...no more jokes,” Zachariah mumbles. He raises one hand, fingers like a gun, and points them at Dean, “Bang.”

A loud crunch and Dean falls unable to stand, “God! You son of a bitch!”

“Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than your legs. I am completely and utterly through screwing around. The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?” Zachariah snarls.

“And how many humans die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five, ten?” Dean yells.

“Probably more. If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive,” Zachariah threatens.

Dean groans in pain nursing his leg, “You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin.”

Zachariah sighs dramatically, “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Well, there's got to be another way,” Dean tries.

“There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent. It is written,” Zachariah still perseveres.

Dean snarls, “Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand... Eat me. The answer's no,” he pants.

“Okay. How about this? Your friend Bobby—we know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again,” Zachariah offers.

“No,” Dean whispers.

“Then how about we heal you from...stage-four stomach cancer?” Zachariah offers as he points at again Dean who doubles over, coughing. He spits blood into his palm.

“No,” Dean gurgles.

“Hmmm,” Zachariah contemplates, “Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how well you do with only one lung?” Dean gasps for breath in response.

“Are we having fun yet? You're going to say yes, Dean,” Zachariah warns.

“Just kill me,” Dean pants.

“Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started,” Zachariah replies. A bright light flashes and Zachariah turns.

One of the angels collapses with a bloody hole in his throat, and Castiel standing beside him. The other angel fights Castiel as Zachariah and Dean stare intently. Castiel and the angel slam each other around, he stabs the angel in the back, and a bright light flashes.

Zachariah stares dumfounded. Castiel walks closer. “How are you...” Zachariah questions, as Dean lies gasping on the floor.

“Alive?” Castiel asks. “That's a good question. How did Dean end up on that airplane? Another good question, 'cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?”

“No. That's not possible,” Zachariah mumbles worriedly.

“It scares you,” Castiel states. “Well, it should. Now, put Dean back together and go. I won't ask twice,” he growls. Zachariah vanishes and Dean stands up. “You need to be more careful.”

“Yeah,” Dean coughs, “I'm starting to get that. Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought.”

“It’s not just the angels anymore. Lucifer will be hunting for you too.” He puts his hands on Dean’s chest.

Dean gasps and cringes with a groan, “What the hell was that?”

“An Enochian sigil,” Castiel explains. “It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer.”

“What, did you just brand me with it?” Dean asks rubbing his chest.

“No,” Castiel explains, “I carved it into your ribs.”

Dean blinks at him and Castiel stares back. “Were you really dead?” he asks.

“Yes,” Castiel answers.

“Then, how are you back?” he questions. Castiel vanishes from the storage garage.

~*~

"Unlikely to walk again"?! Why you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!” Bobby yells throwing his bedpan at the doctor as he runs out of the room. Bobby sits in his hospital bed and Dean is standing by the window. “I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run, you chicken shit!” Bobby looks over at Dean. “Do you believe that yahoo?”

“Screw him. You'll be fine,” Dean encourages. “So, uh,” Dean asks rubbing the back of his neck before he looks back at Bobby,” “What do we do now?”

“Well, we save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It's bad. Whoever wins, heaven or hell, we're boned,” Bobby replies honestly.

“But, what if we win?” Dean asks. Bobby stares at him as if he was crazy. “I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war; they can fight it somewhere else. This planet’s ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves.”

“And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?” Bobby snarks.

“I’ve got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out,” he finishes confidently with a smirk.

Bobby smirks in response, “You are nine kinds of crazy, boy.”

“It's been said,” Dean, grins cheekily. He pats Bobby on the shoulder before he turns to leave. “Listen, you stay on the mend, and I'll see you in a bit.”

An ambulance drives past as Dean walks out to the car. He opens it and gets in. He caresses the steering wheel. He looks around the inside. He smells the faint scent of Sammy, the worn soothing scents of his childhood. He lets out a deep breath. His hands start to shake so he just grips the steering wheel hard and tighter. Lucifer was riding a Sammy-suit to the prom and he was alone. Bobby was probably never going to walk again. Cas was who knew where the hell ever, and he … he was alone and terrified. He would fight, fight until he couldn’t fight anymore even but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that they were gonna win.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

~*~

Bobby is wearing a bathrobe and ball cap as he sits in a wheelchair staring the window. Dean walks in with a manila envelope in hand. “Come on Bobby, it’s been three days man. You gotta snap outta it.” Dean says looking around nervously. This had gone on long enough. He needs Bobby. He needs someone. “I know, how about a backrub?” Bobby continues to ignore him and stare out the window.

Dean huffs and pulls a chair over to sit next to him. He opens up the envelope that he has in his hands marked “X-RAY”. “I went to radiology, and it seems Cas angel painted all over my ribs,” he says looking at the prints. “Let's just say the doctors are baffled,” he tells Bobby showing it to him. He still does not get a response.

Dean pulls the films back over to him and looks at the Enochian symbols for a minute before his phone rings. He pulls it out and answers, “Hello?”

Over the staticy reception, Dean heard Castiel’s reply, “Dean.”

Dean answered, “Cas? How the …”

“Where are you?” Castiel asked persistently.

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and looks at it for a second before answering, “Uh, St. Martin's Hospital. Why? What are you—Cas?” he pulls the phone away again with a pissed off look on his face as Castiel had hung up on him. “Dick,” he mutters. Castiel turns the corner and walks into Bobby’s room. “A cell phone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?”

Castiel sighs heavily before he responds, “You're hidden from the angels now, all angels. I won't be able to simply …”

”Enough foreplay,” Bobby growls from his wheelchair by the window. Dean and Castiel look over at him. “Get over here and lay your damn hands on me.” Neither of them moves, so Bobby looks over his shoulder, “Get with the healing. Now!”

“I can't,” Castiel states.

Bobby turns his chair around and faces Castiel, “Say again?” he prompts acidly.

Castiel leans down to talk to Bobby, “I'm cut off from heaven and much of heaven's power. Certain things I can do. Certain things I cannot.”

“You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this steel trap for the rest of my life?” Bobby snarls in response to this news.

Castiel hesitates briefly, “I am sorry.”

“Shove it up your ass,” Bobby growls as he turned back to his window.

Dean looks over at Castiel, “At least he's talking now.”

”I heard that,” Bobby snaps making Dean cringe.

Castiel looks over at Dean and says, “I don't have much time. We need to talk,” walking out into the hallway.

“Uh, okay,” Dean replies looking back at Bobby before he follows Castiel.

“Your plan to kill Lucifer,” Castiel starts.

“Yeah. You wanna help?” Dean asks walking over to him.

“No. It's foolish. It can't be done,” Castiel states drawing Dean up short.

“Oh. Well, gee, thanks for the support,” Dean snarks.

Castiel continues earnestly, “But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the apocalypse.”

“Alright,” Dean asks, “well, who?” when Castiel takes too long to respond.

“The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God.” Dean looks skeptical. “I'm gonna find God,” Castiel reiterates.

Dean stares at Castiel and quickly ushers them both back into the hospital room after looking all around to make sure no one heard Castiel. He closes the door and turns back to Castiel. “God?”

“Yes,” Castiel replies.

“God,” Dean clarifies again.

“Yes!” Castiel snaps. “He isn't in heaven,” he reasons, “so, he has to be somewhere.”

Dean rolls his eyes in annoyance and sarcastically replies, “Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla.”

Castiel tilts his head and replies, “No, he is not on any flatbread.”

Dean sighs in exasperation and pinches his nose, “Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead, and that's the generous theory or …”

“He is out there, Dean.” Castiel responds emphatically with absolute devotion.

Dean continues right over him, “… or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us,” Castiel glares in response. “I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?”

“Enough,” Castiel snaps furiously, “This is not a theological debate. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win,” he assures Dean.

“It's a pipe dream, Cas,” Dean replies quietly trying not to hurt his friend or crush his dream. He was all too familiar with absentee fathers and the sons that blindly follow their doctrine.

Castiel advances on him, “I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you … and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world, and I … I lost everything, for nothing. So, _you_ can keep your opinions to yourself,” he snaps darkly.

“You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole. What is it you want?” Bobby asks gruffly.

Castiel looks back and forth between Bobby and Dean. “I did come for something. An amulet.”

“An amulet? What kind?” Bobby asks.

“Very rare. Very powerful,” Castiel pauses watching them, “it burns hot in God's presence. It will help me find him.

Dean squinted as he asked, “Like a God EMF or something?” Castiel nods.

“Well, I don't know what you're talking about,” came Bobby’s gruff response. “I ain’t got nothing like that.”

“I know. You don't,” Castiel replies looking at Dean, drops his gaze to Dean’s amulet, and looks back up.

“What, this?” Dean asked holding the gift that Lizzie had given him so long ago during the Christmas they were together.

“May I borrow it?” Castiel asks holding out his hand.

“No,” Dean snaps in a predatory growl.

“Dean. Give it to me.” Castiel commands gravely.

Dean was silent as he thought about it glaring at Castiel. It was from Lizzie’s grandfather’s vault he knew, and he knew how deeply her family was involved within the hunting community. It could very well be something very important. Cas would never have asked if it was not. He slowly took off the amulet and held it out to Castiel. “All right, I guess,” he grumbles begrudgingly. Castiel reaches for it and Dean jerks it back “Just … just, don’t lose it.” Castiel takes it with a nod. “Great. Now I feel naked,” Dean mumbles fiddling with his jacket lapel.

“I'll be in touch,” Castiel says before he vanishes.

“When you find God, tell him to send legs!” Bobby yells at the ceiling.

~*~

Rufus holds his gun and fires. He cocks it and fires again hurrying backwards to a young man lying on the ground. He drags the young man to relative safety behind a silver minivan.

“Your belt, your belt!” he snaps at the young man who pulls it off. Rufus takes it and wraps it around his thigh above his bleeding injury, making a tourniquet. Rufus pulls it tight causing the young man to yelp and curse in pain. “Hey. Hey! Hold this,” Rufus yells handing the young man his gun. He pulls out a phone and pressed speed dial.

In Bobby’s hospital room, his phone rings and he answers it, “Hello?” hearing someone on the other line barely above the static. “I, I can't hear you. Rufus? Where are you? Colora—Colorado? River Pass, Colorado? Rufus? Rufus, you there?” Bobby hears gunshots before the call cuts out.

~*~

###    
_River Pass, Colorado_   
  


The Impala approaches a collapsed bridge. Dean gets out for a closer look. Dean kicks a rock over the edge. It looks difficult enough to get a person across let alone a car. Dean mumbles to himself, “Well, this is the only road in or out.” He pulls out his cell phone and holds it up. “Great! No signal. Well I guess the demons have this place on lock down. Looks like I’m hiking,” he says to himself.

Dean walks into town carrying his gun and his duffle bag over his shoulder scanning the area. The near side of the street had a sporting goods store advertising ammo, rods and reels, and a thirty percent sale for Pioneers Day. On the far side of that was a residential area. There was no sign of anyone. There is a blue two-door sedan is overturned in the street. Dean ducks down to examine the car shaking his head; the car is empty. He straightens up and moves on.

A sprinkler was running in front of one of the houses: whatever happened to clear the area happened fast enough that no one turned it off. There was another car in the street; this one was tan and right side up. The driver's door is open with the engine running, and the radio is playing "Spirit in the Sky". Dean approaches with his gun ready. It is also empty. Dean snorts at the song before he turns off the engine.

A banner hangs over the street, welcoming folks to the seventy-fifth anniversary of River Pass, Colorado's Pioneer Days, with pictures of the Grand Marshall and the Rodeo Queen. Dean pauses to admire and whistle at a gleaming red classic Mustang.

Something sparks at the gas station. There is a silver four-door minivan standing open. There is a baby stroller next to the door and a great deal of blood in front of and leading away from the door. Dean approaches and scans the area again. There was a large hole in the minivan's windshield. He moves on.

A gun cocks. Dean whips around, leveling his shotgun. “Ellen?”

“Hello, Dean,” she replies. She lowers her gun and walks closer.

“Ellen, what the heck's going on here?” he asks before she splashes him in the face with holy water and raises her gun again. Dean closes his eyes for a minute before he spit out the mouth full of holy water. “I’m not a demon,” he growls. She lowers her gun again and passes him heading towards the church.

They enter the church, which has a devil's trap drawn inside the doorway and a line of salt across the threshold. Ellen and Dean walk across both with no problems. Ellen turns back, “I’m real glad to see you,” she breathes as she pulls him in for a tight hug. Dean relaxes into the warm embrace. She pulls back and slaps him hard across the face. “The can of whoop-ass I ought to open on you, boy.”

Dean cringes and rubs his cheek, “Ow!”

“You can't pick up a phone? What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind? I got to find out that you're alive from Rufus?” she yells at him.

“Sorry, Ellen,” Dean replies sheepishly.

“Yeah, you better be. You better put me on speed dial, kid,” she huffs.

“Yes, ma'am,” he replies with a small smile. Ellen pauses looking him over before she turns and leads him farther inside. “What's going on, Ellen?”

“More than I can handle alone,” she replies.

“How many demons are there?” Dean asks.

“Pretty much the whole town, minus the dead people and these guys,” she says as stops at a closed door. She turns back. “So, this is it, right? End times?” Dean shrugs. “It's got to be,” she mumbles before she knocks on the door. “It's me,” she replies.

Someone on the far side opens a peephole, and then opens the door. “This is Austin,” Ellen tells Dean. Behind him stood a pastor, an older woman, a young man with his arm around a pregnant woman, a shorthaired man, a long-bearded man with glasses, a young woman and a shaggy-haired man. “With us, there are a total of thirteen.” Ellen says. Austin resumed his station in front of the bookshelf after he closes the door. “This is Dean. He’s a hunter. Here to help,” she explains.

“You hip to this whole demon thing?” Austin asks.

“Yeah. Are you?” Dean asks looking at the guy with glasses.

“Roger,” he offers. “My wife's eyes turned black. She came at me with a brick. Kind of makes you embrace the paranormal,” he replies sarcastically. He brings his right hand to his chin, contemplating his ring.

Dean turns to Ellen, “All right, catch me up.”

“I doubt I know much more than you. Rufus calls. Said he was in town investigating omens. All of a sudden, the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby,” she explains.

Dean looks at her in shock at that bit of news, “You're hunting with Jo?"

She nods in reply, “Yeah, for a while now. We got here, and the place … well, the place was like you see it. Couldn't find Rufus, then me and Jo got separated. I was out looking when I found you.”

“Don't worry, we'll find her,” he assures her. He looks around at everyone and their surroundings, “Either way, these people cannot just sit here.” The pregnant woman startles and Roger plays with his ring. “We've got to get them out now.”

Ellen breathes out heavily as she looks at everyone, “No, it's not that easy. I've been trying. We already made a run for it once.”

“What happened?” Dean asks.

“There used to be twenty of us,” she says quietly. Dean looks around; excluding him and Ellen, there were only ten people left.

“Well, there's two of us now …” Dean says confidently.

“You don't know what it's like out there, Dean. Demons are everywhere. We won't be able to cover everybody,” she says. “What if we get everyone guns? I mean the more salt we can fire at once, the more demons we can keep away.”

Dean grudgingly nods. “There's a sporting goods store I passed on Main on the way in. I bet they got guns. I can go round some up and some more supplies. You can start Shotgun 101, okay?” he asks Ellen.

She nods and asks, “What about …”

Dean finishes for her, “If Jo and Rufus are out there, I'll bring them back.” Austin opens the door and Dean leaves.

Dean runs to the sporting goods store and stocks as many guns as he can carry before he goes to the Quick Mart for some mores supplies. He backs off when he sees demons rummaging through for bottles of water and salt. One was filling his backpack and the other was standing lookout armed with a baseball bat. The whole thing just looked weird, kind of like what they were doing at the church.

Back at the church, the shaggy-haired man and the older woman assemble salt shells while Roger practices loading a shotgun. “Okay, all right.”

Ellen stops him, “Roger, hang on a second …”

Roger fumbles and drops the shell, “Sorry.”

Dean demonstrates loading a shotgun for the young man and the pregnant woman, “… then you snap it in,” he explains showing them what he was doing. He set the butt of a rifle on the table and faces Austin, “You know your way around a gun at all?” Austin expertly disassembles the gun. “Hmm,” he mumbles, “Where’d you serve?”

“Fallujah. Two tours. Got back a little over a year ago. Takes one to know one. Where'd you serve?” he asks Dean.

“Hell,” Dean replies.

Austin snorts in amusement as he starts reassembling his gun, “No, seriously.”

Dean looks up darkly, “Seriously. Hell.” he replies quietly before he cocks his shotgun.

“I'll be back,” Ellen says fidgeting with her jacket hem.

Dean looks up at her standing in front of him. “Where you going?”

She huffs heavily, “I can't sit here on my ass. My daughter's out there somewhere. If I'm not back in half an hour, go. Get these people out of here.”

Dean stands up, “No way, I’ll go with you. You can’t go out there alone. Austin, if we don’t get back, you get them outta here.”

Outside, the sprinkler is still going as Dean and Ellen walk past the tan car. “So, where’d you last see her?” Dean asks.

“Up ahead.” She says pointing up the street.

“So what's up with you and Jo?” Dean asks. “I’m kinda surprised that you two are hunting together. Weren't you always saying she couldn't hack the life?”

“She can't,” Ellen says, “but if she's gonna do it anyway …”

“You wanted to keep an eye on her,” Dean finishes for her. He looks down the street and sees smoke rising from behind the trees. “Hey,” he says pointing.

“Is that a chimney going?” Ellen asks.

“Looks like it. Come on,” Dean answers. They approach a house with smoke coming from the chimney. They hide behind another building and peer around the corner. There is a black-eyed demon seen passing in front of one of the windows.

“Guess we found base camp,” Ellen states.

“Demons don't get cold.” Dean notes. “Makes you wonder what they're burning. In town earlier, when I went for supplies, I ran across a group foraging for supplies, salt and water at the convenience store,” he says as he rounds the corner. Ellen is grabbed from behind. Dean whirls and slams his gun into a black-eyed demon. Another demon pins Ellen to the wall with another gun.

“Don't move, you evil skank!” Jo yells.

The demon grabs Dean’s gun and starts whacking him with it. Dean slams him into the wall. The other demon lets go of Ellen to come help. Jo presses Ellen to the wall with her own gun. Jo's eyes go black.

“Don't you hurt her, don't you …” Ellen warns.

“Give me my mom back, you black-eyed bitch!” Jo yells at her. Ellen shoves Jo off and slams her with the gun butt.

“Ellen! Run!” Dean yells. He cocks the shotgun and is hit from behind and knocked to the ground. Ellen runs off while Jo gets to her feet. Dean stares up at the new attacker. It's Rufus, black-eyed.

“Got you now, you bastard,” Rufus growls at Dean before he passes out.

~*~

Dean came to in a living room. He is tied to a chair with a fireplace lit in front of him. He yanks on the ropes. Rufus and Jo look at him with blackened eyes. Jo is carrying a gallon jug of water.

“Uh-uh. No way you're getting out of those. Did you up myself. You're stuck right where I want you, you evil son of a bitch,” Rufus sneers. He backhands Dean and Jo splashes holy water in his face, then looks at him in confusion. Rufus grabs Dean’s neck and forces his head back.

Dean yells, “No, wait, wait, wait.” Jo puts down the jug and walks around to hold Dean’s head back. Dean tries again, “Just wait …” he sputters and chokes as Rufus pours salt on Dean’s face and into his mouth.

Rufus chants, “Exorcisamus te, exorcisamus te, omnis satanica …”

“Stop!” Dean yells trying to twist his head back and forth.

“… omnis immundum …” Rufus continues.

Jo continues to hold Dean head while Rufus pours salt on him. Dean struggles as best he can, “Man! Come on!” he sputters.

“…. omnis immundus,” Rufus tries to continue. Nothing is happening, so he stops. Jo looks back and forth between them. She lets go of Dean and picks up the water jug.

Dean spits salt out of his mouth snarling, “Look! Something ain’t right! Can’t you see that?” Jo splashes holy water in Dean’s face, which he spits right back out at them. “Damn it Jo! I’m not a demon!”

Jo walks over to the corner with Rufus. No one sees Roger just outside the door or that he twists the ring on his right hand. “Why isn't it working?” she whispers frantically to Rufus.

“I don't know,” he snaps looking over his shoulder at Dean, who is black-eyed. Dean is struggling to get out of the ropes looking around seeing the devil’s trap painted on the ceiling. “But he's not as strong as he thinks he is,” Rufus grounds out.

~*~

Back at the church, someone pounds on the door. Everyone startles. Austin opens the peephole, moves what was blocking the door, and opens it. Ellen comes in, alone. He asks, “Where’s Dean?” Ellen shakes her head and sits down next to the young woman, who passes her a bottle of water.

The pregnant woman panics, “They took him? Demons took him? Oh my god. What if they're in here? The demons?”

“Could they get in?” the pastor worries.

“No.” Ellen states. “Okay, we need a plan," she tells them as she sits at the table and talks with the group. “One of them’s in my daughter. We gotta get it out without hurting her.” She snorts in thought. “It called me a bitch.”

“So?” Austin asks.

“No,” Ellen explains. “It called me a black-eyed bitch. I mean what kind of demons are these? Holy water and salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot, but she's not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It's all kinds of weird. The whole thing's off,” she mutters to herself. “Rufus came to town because of something about the water.” she turned to the Pastor, “Do you know anything about the water supply?”

“The river ran polluted all of a sudden,” he tells her.

“When?” Ellen asks.

“Last Wednesday. And the demon thing started up the next day,” Austin explains.

“Anything else?” she presses.

“Maybe … but it's pretty random,” Austin remembers, “A shooting star. Does that count? Like really big. That same night, Wednesday.”

Ellen stands and goes over to the bookshelf. She pulls down a copy of the Bible and brings it back to the table searching through it. “So, uh, you think that all this comes from outer space?” Austin questions.

“No,” she mutters finding the passage that she wanted and reads it aloud.

 _"And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died."_

“Revelation 18:10,” the Pastor says. “Are you saying that this is about the apocalypse?”

Ellen nods, “These specific omens, what are they a prelude to?”

“The Four Horsemen,” the Pastor replies.

“Which one rides the red horse?” she questions.

“War,” the Pastor answers.

“There was a red Mustang parked on Main,” she says. “He’s messing with our heads and turning us against each other. I mean think about it. Jo called me a black-eyed bitch. They think we're demons, we think they're demons. What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?”

“Wait a minute,” the Pastor snaps skeptically, “just back up. It's the apocalypse?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ellen tells the group causing the Pastor to blink several times.

~*~

Back in the living room in the house, Dean is alone, still tied to the chair. Roger comes in. “Alright, I’ll bite. What the hell are you?” he snaps.

“You caught me,” Roger beams. “I popped in to watch. I can hustle like that.”

“And the real Roger?” Dean asks.

“Buried in a ditch,” he answered.

Dean rolls his eyes. Roger closes the door and moves another chair over to sit down. “So who are you?”

“Here's a hint. I was in Germany. Then in Germany. Then in the Middle East. I was in Darfur when my beeper went off. I'm waiting to hook up with my siblings. I've got three. We're going to have so much fun together,” he chuckles.

“Shit. Fuckin’ Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” he mutters. "Which one are you? War,” he asks, finally understanding, “There aren’t any demons in this town, are there?”

“Nope,” War smiles. “Just frightened people ripping each other's throats out. I really haven't had to do too much. Take out a bridge here, lay in a little hallucination there, sit back, pop some corn, and watch the show. Frankly, you're really quite vicious little animals.”

“No,” Dean yells frantically. “You're making them doing this.”

“Please,” War snorts, “Last week, this was Mayberry. Now these people are stabbing each other's children.”

“'Cause you’re making them see demons, asshole,” Dean snaps.

War sighs, “Honestly, people don't need a reason to kill each other. I mean, you’ve seen the Irish? They're all … Irish.” Dean rolls his eyes in response. “You think I'm a monster,” War smiles. “I'm just the jello shots at the party, man. I remove inhibitions.”

“I'm gonna kill you myself,” Dean snarls. War stands and puts his glasses back on. “Showtime for the meat suits. Watch this,” he says as he twists his ring. Blood flows down his forehead. He kicks over his chair, drops to the floor, and screams. Rufus kicks the door open, Jo is right behind him. War looks up at them. “He did it!” he yells.

“No!” Dean yells. To Rufus, Dean appears black-eyed.

“He said they're coming! He said they're coming to get us!” War screams in a panicked voice.

“No! What the … Jo, Rufus, he’s lying,” Dean yells jerking on his ropes frantically.

Rufus backhands him, “You shut your mouth!”

~*~

In the church, they were sitting around the table, “So now you're saying that there are no demons and war is a guy?”

Someone hammers on the door. “Open up! It’s Roger!” War yells. Austin checks the peephole and let War in. He is breathing hard like he had been running. “I saw them, the demons. They know we're trying to leave. They said they're gonna pick us off one by one.”

“Wait, wait. What? When did you even leave the room?” Ellen yells.

“I thought you said there were no demons,” Austin accuses.

“There's not,” Ellen snaps. “Where did you go?”

“I thought someone should go out and see what's going on!” Roger snaps back at her.

She glares at him, “Where did you see the demons and what did they say exactly?”

“No, man. We just sit here, we're going to be dead,” Austin assures them.

“No, we're not!” Ellen yells angrily.

“They’re gonna kill us unless we kill them first,” War panics.

Ellen holds up her hands, “Now, just hold on a minute …”

“No!” he yells, “we got people to protect. All right, the able-bodied go hunt some demons.” Austin picks up a shotgun and hands it to the younger man.

War holds up his right hand and twists his ring, pointing at Ellen “Look at her eyes! She’s one of them! She’s a demon! Ellen appears black-eyed to the pregnant woman who gasps. The Pastor raises a shotgun and Ellen turns and runs out through the door with Austin blasting his shotgun, missing her and hitting the door. War watches, triumphant.

~*~

Back at the house, Rufus ties a wire around the latch on a closed window while Jo holds two bombs. “Uh, Rufus, pipe bombs won't kill a demon.”

He checks the wire; it's attached to another bomb, “You’re right, but in my experience, demons come at you slower if they're in a body with no limbs,” he says as he closes the curtains.

“One of them is in my mother,” Jo reminds him.

Rufus turns to her, “Listen to me. You know I'm gonna do everything I can. Your mom's gonna be okay.”

Jo nods sadly, “Unless she comes through that window.” Rufus holds out his hand and she gives him the next bomb.

On the other side of town, the church door opens. Austin comes out and scans the area. He holds the door open, “Come on,” he orders the young man, woman and War. Everyone has shotguns as they follow Austin.

Back in the hunter’s base, Jo and Rufus are loading load shotguns. There is an explosion and Jo and Rufus duck. They look at each other, ready guns to go have a look. The front room is devastated and empty. Rufus peers through the windows. Jo sees Rufus crumple to the ground before she yells and runs to him, stopping short to see her mother standing there, black-eyed. She charges at her mother and they fight. Ellen pins her to the wall. “Now you listen up, Joanna Beth Harvelle,” Ellen snaps at her daughter. “I'm not a demon. Think, Joanne Beth. All of those omens, the polluted water, the shooting star, the red Mustang. It’s War, the Horseman.” She says as she shakes Jo.

Jo blinks and shakes her head, “Horseman?”

Rufus comes to and levels his shotgun at Ellen’s back. “No!” Jo yells pushing her mother out of the way standing between them. “It’s War, Rufus, he’s making us see the demons. It’s mom.”

“The Horseman? War?” Rufus questions, he shakes his head lowering his gun and looking at the both of them.

“We all on the same page?” Ellen asks. Jo and Rufus nod in response. “kay, we got to find War before everybody in this town kills each …” Gunshots from Austin firing his rifle outside the house breaks out and everyone ducks.

“Where's Dean?” Ellen snaps.

“Upstairs,” Rufus yells running off in the direction of the shooting.

Ellen hands Jo the shotgun, “Take this.” They run upstairs and Jo opens the door.

“Ellen,” he yells. “It’s not demons. It’s War.”

“I know that,” she snaps as her and Jo cut his ties free. “I just can't figure out how he's doing it.”

Dean rubbed his sore wrists and thought, “The ring.”

“The ring?” Ellen questions, “The ring. That's right. He turned it right before he made everybody hallucinate that we were demons too.”

“We got to move. Come on,” Dean says.

Outside the house, Austin exchanges gunfire with another young man in the upper window of the house. The shaggy-haired man hurries along behind the fence. The young man peers around the corner where he is shot at by another man up at the house. He keeps the pregnant lady behind him. The shaggy-haired man and that man exchange gunfire.

Rufus runs up stairs yelling, “Cease fire!” He comes up behind the other man “Stop shooting! Stop!” He takes the gun off the other man and slams him in the face with it. He watched him crumple to the floor.

“Rufus, man! Come on,” Dean yells from downstairs.

Rufus sighs heavily, ““I'm getting too old for this.”

On the other side of the house, another young man aims out one of the windows at the Pastor and the young woman who are running to shelter behind a trailer. When the Pastor comes out, the other young woman fires and the bullet goes straight through the Pastor’s shoulder. He falls to the ground with the young woman yelling panicked, “Father!”

Ellen approaches and presses something to the wound in the Pastor’s shoulder. The young woman looks up terrified “I'm not what you think, honey. Come on, keep this right here,” she instructs her.

Jo comes up behind the other young man and yanks his gun out of his hands, “'Stop firing' usually means 'stop firing',” she snaps marching out of the room to find her mother.

War walks up to the red Mustang. He looks back over his shoulder and sees nothing. He reaches for the door and Dean and Rufus grab him. War laughs as Rufus holds him. Dean pulls out Ruby’s knife. “Whoa. Okay. That's a sweet little knife. But come on. You can't kill war, kiddos.”

“Oh, we know,” Dean smirks. Rufus slams War’s hand against the Mustang and cuts all four fingers off. The ring clinks on the pavement. Dean leans down and picks up the ring. War and the red Mustang are gone; Dean and Rufus look for them.

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

~*~

Dean dampens a washcloth in the motel room sink and starts to clean his jacket. Castiel appears behind him. Dean sees him in the mirror and startles. “God,” he thumps the sink, “don’t do that," he snaps.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel murmurs.

Dean turns around and Castiel is inches from him. He coughs nervously, “Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space?”

Castiel clears his throat and steps back, “My apologies.”

Dean grabs his jacket and walks toward the bed, “How'd you find me? I thought I was flying below the angel radar.” He rubs his ribs to illustrate the point.

“You are.” Castiel assured him, “Bobby told me where you were.”

“So," he asks casually, "did you find God yet? More importantly, can I have my damn necklace back, please?” Dean says sarcastically.

“No, I haven't found him. That's why I'm here. I need your help,” Castiel replies.

“With what?” Dean snarks, “God hunt? Not interested.”

“It's not God. It's someone else,” Castiel answers vaguely.

Dean glares at Castiel for playing twenty questions, “Who?”

“An Archangel. The one who killed me,” he states simply looking around the room.

Dean did a double take and squints down at Castiel, “'Scuse me?”

Castiel sighs heavily, “His name is Raphael. I've heard whispers that he's walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity.”

“Wait,” Dean pauses unbelieving, “You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?” Castiel tilts his head in confusion and frowns. Dean shakes his head and continues on, “Rare opportunity for what? Revenge?”

“Information,” Castiel deadpans in response.

Dean goes back over to the sink, picks up his knife and a washcloth, and starts to clean the knife, “So, what, you think you can find this dude and he's just gonna spill God's address?”

“Yes,” Castiel states confidently, “because we are gonna trap him and interrogate him.”

Dean pauses in cleaning the knife and turns back, “You're serious about this?” Castiel turns around to face Dean. Dean drops the washcloth and walks back toward Castiel. “So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?” he asks. Castiel stares at Dean, confused. Dean goes around Castiel and sheaths the knife in its holster. “Give me one good reason why I should do this.”

“Because you're Michael's vessel and no angel will dare harm you,” Castiel explains as if that was the obvious reason.

Dean stares at Castiel mockingly, “Oh, so I'm your bullet shield.”

Castiel’s patience was at an end, “I need your help because you are the only one who'll help me. Please.”

Dean thinks about it for a few seconds, “All right, fine. Where is he?”

“Maine. Let's go,” Castiel says as he reaches out to touch Dean’s forehead with two fingers.

Dean leans away in confusion, “Whoa,” he says and Castiel moves his hand back in confusion and shock.

“What?” he snaps.

“Last time you zapped me someplace I couldn’t take a crap for a week. We're driving,” he informs Castiel.

~*~

They are driving up Route One North, when Dean starts seeing the markers for Cape Cod and he smiles to himself. The wind blows in tinted with the scents of the sea. That seems a hundred lifetimes ago …

> A little girl, who could not have been more than eight, dressed in a pink sundress with her chestnut hair pulled up in pigtails and ribbons wielding a pink T-ball bat like a broadsword. She was beating a boy who had to be about fourteen or fifteen by the looks of him. The howling they heard was her breaking his leg with the bat.

He saw the signs for the ferry crossing about five miles ago. Closer and closer. He turned down the road leading to the ferry entrance. Castiel turns and stares blankly at Dean, “We’re makin’ a stop,” he says.

“Dean, we need to get to Waterville,” Castiel reminds him.

“I know, I just gotta … I gotta … we just are,” he growls. How was he supposed to explain it? _‘Hey Mouse, I started the apocalypse and Lucifer is wearin’ a Sammy-shaped meat suit to the prom.’ Fuck! What if I just …? Just what? I’m goin’ down fightin’, but damn it, I need to see her one more time._ He had not seen Lizzie in over twelve years. __

He gets out of the Impala and stretches his legs walking to the front of the ferry. He turns back watching the mainland shrink back away the farther out to sea they go. He sees Clark’s Island come into view. He reaches for his amulet, which Castiel still has not returned.

>  _“Gampa had it in the vault. I asked him if I could give it to you and he said yes. It’s for protection, when you’re not here. See,” she said showing him the St. Benedict’s pendant that she still wore, “like you gave me to be safe. Now, I get to make sure you’re safe too.” She said happily with a bounce._

~*~

“Mikey! If your room isn’t clean and your homework done before you leave this house, I swear, I will drive over there and drag you out by your ear. Daniel’s mother will be here any minute. Get a move on!” Lizzie bellows from the kitchen.

“But Mom …” Mikey groans from the living room.

“Don’t you ‘But Mom’ me. Move it or lose it, mister. Is your bag packed? I don’t want any panicked early-morning calls that you forgot your uniform for soccer camp,” she tells him as she walks into the living room, dishtowel in one hand and her other hand on her hip, glaring a hole into his skull.

“Yes, God! Will you give me some credit, mother? Geez!” He stomps off upstairs to put his uniform in his overnight bag. He was so not letting her know he forgot. He would _never_ live that one down.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man. I brought you into this world. I can take you out.” She follows him to the foot of the stairs.

“I wish you never watched that Bill Cosby special,” he mumbles.

“What did you say to me?” She hollers from the stairs and marches up after him as their conversation continues throughout the house.

Overhearing this, Dean just smirks and laughs a little, standing at the gate that leads up to the house. He fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket while he listens to the conversation through the open windows. _Some things never change,_ he thinks fondly. His Lizzie is still terrorizing someone somewhere.

Hesitating at the gate, he reaches for the latch, stops, and looks back at the Impala. I _really shouldn’t bring her into this. She obviously has a whole other life, but where else can we go? One night, that’s all, and then I’ll leave her alone._

 __

He just needs to rest and to think.

And still, Dean fidgets. This is one of the few places he ever truly felt safe. Dean looks back at the Impala, his baby. Castiel is sitting stalwart and steadfast in the front seat, showing no emotion, looking a little worse for wear.

 _How did things get so fucked up? Well, more so than usual, anyways_ , Dean thinks.

Dean opens the gate and walks up the walkway to the house. He stops on the bottom step and is flooded with memories of happier times full of discovery, wonder and hope. Times that he has longed for, it seems, for an eternity.

>  _All of a sudden, Dean jumped down from the tree overhead. “Whatcha doin’!” he thundered as he landed, crouched in front of them then standing with his hands his hips. Sunlight glinted off his wavy dark blonde hair. His green eyes were twinkling with mischief._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _“Dean! You made me drop it! You make me so mad! Don’t you have somethin’ to do?” Lizzie fumed at him stomping her foot, mimicking his stance while she glared up at him._
> 
>  __
> 
> Sammy was laughing at them both from where he was sitting on the fallen tree trunk. Dean was always picking on Lizzie. She was so tiny too, smaller even than Sammy was and she was older than he was. That didn’t stop her though; she would stand up to anyone. He liked her a whole lot.
> 
>  __
> 
>  _Lizzie proceeded to ignore Dean. She rolled her eyes at him, wiped off her hands on her shorts, pushed her hair out of her eyes, again and sat back down with Sammy._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _Dean crouched again to see what they are doing. He e H just could not resist antagonizing Lizzie some more. “Nah, I just like watchin’ you get pissed off, Mouse.” Dean winked and pulled on her pigtail._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _“Quit it! Don’t call me that, you creep!” She slapped his hand away. “Dean Michael Winchester! You are so annoying, go away!” She jumped up and kicked him in the shin. He yelped in pain grabbing his shin. She pushed him out of her way, trying to run off, but he lost his balance, fell backwards, trying to grab her to stop his fall but ended up pulling her down on top of him._

 _I can’t bring this into her life_ , he thinks. _She doesn’t deserve this_.

As Dean turns to leave, the bottom step creaks. Just then, the front door flies open and she’s there, _Lizzie_.

“Dean?” she questions in a breathless gasp.

Just like that, like always, she makes him feel whole. She revitalizes him. Like a breath of fresh, clean, pure air after the morbid, decayed stench of death.

“Hey Mouse.” Dean laughs a little. “I, I, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come, I.…” he stutters and blushes. _Damn it!_ She is the only person who has ever been able to make him blush.

 _Shit!_ He feels like he is ten years old again and she is eight, sitting in his lap under that tree after he gave her that stupid pendant. _Fuck!_ He needs to get out of here.

>  _“Lizzie,” he sighed. “We’re gonna be back next spring when school lets out. Dad already said we could stay the summer while he and your Dad go huntin’…” He tried to reason with her._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _She turned back to him. “But that’s such a long time away…” She whined as two big tears rolled down either cheek. “I’m gonna miss you, you creep!” She was starting to look really pissed off having admitted that._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _Dean smirked at her revelation. “I got somethin’ for ya’.” He told her with a grin._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _“Really, what?” she asked. Lizzie scrubbed her face dry and leaned down to see.   He reached into the pocket of his second-hand jeans and pulled out a small medallion._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _“A St. Benedict’s medal?” Lizzie asked him as he placed it in her hand._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _“Pastor Jim says it’s for protection. Ya’ know, to keep you safe until we come back next spring. Or, whatever…” he blushed as he explained his reasons. ”If anythin’, it can protect you from Sister Margaret Clare’s ruler.” He tried to laugh off his embarrassment._

“I’ll just …” he starts, and then she is in his arms, hugging him, accepting him just as always. _God! She smells the same_ , he thinks, _apples and sunshine_. Now that she is older, it’s richer, cinnamon-sweet with an earthy hint of vanilla. He could just drown in her. Both arms come around and hold her tight, clinging as he stands to his full height causing her feet to dangle in the air. He burrows further into her warm sweetness. This is what coming home feels like.

Lizzie pulls away. There are tears in her eyes as she caresses his cheek, strokes her thumb across his bottom lip, looks up into his eyes and leans in to kiss him on his forehead. He closes his eyes, cherishing this small moment of affection. _I missed her so much._

Her eyes are still that that deep, rich bluish-violet color. She still wears her glasses that she has cursed every day since she first had to put them on. Her hair is still the same deep, rich reddish-brown, soft in curly waves slipping from the haphazard bun that she has it up in. She is still small in stature but filled out with maturity. She is fuller and curvier than he remembers. Hell, last time he really saw her she was sixteen. She is wearing a simple button down over a tank top and jeans with those black Converse sneakers she always loved.

He has never seen anything more breathtaking. _Oh, this is not good. I should definitely leave_ , he thinks again.

“I am so sorry D,” is all she says as she caresses his cheek again looking deep into his weary eyes. She knows. She always does, it seems. Freaky, but he is glad he does not have to explain. It is still too raw.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says softly. “You don’t need to be involved in this.” He tries again. He is falling all over again. _I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough._

“Mom! Where are my socks for my uniform?” Dean hears bellowed from the back upstairs of the house.

Lizzie sighs heavily and turns to yell up to the house, “Top right-hand drawer of your dresser and hurry up! Daniel’s mom is gonna be here any minute.” She turns back to Dean. “Sorry,” she cringes and wrinkles her nose.

 _I forgot how cute she looks when she does that_ , he thinks. _Stop it Dean! Pull it together dude, and get outta here_.

“I’m gonna …” He puts her down and turns.

Lizzie grabs his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip and says, “You will do no such thing, Mr. Winchester. You’re right where you need to be. Move your car around back and put it in the garage, please.” Lizzie peeks around Dean, sees the Impala and smiles sadly, but startles when she sees the passenger. Castiel turns, looks at her and tilts his head to the side, like he is trying to solve a puzzle.

“Oh!” Lizzie gasps and walks quickly over to him as he steps out of the car. She stops just past the gate, hesitates for a second and walks on. Clasping her hands in front of her, she bows her head.  “You will have to excuse me,” she begins. “I was never formally instructed on the proper etiquette in greeting an Angel of the Lord.”

“Filiola[[kew1]]($) ? Dean? How do you know Filiola?” Castiel asks. Lizzie pales slightly then flushes.

Dean is confused. “This is Lizzie. She’s … she’s, uh, an old family friend. You know her?” he asks.

“I know of her, yes,” Castiel explains. He inclines his head slightly to Lizzie, “it is an honor to meet you, Filioa. I am Castiel.”

Lizzie flushes a darker redder as she rang her hands together. “Thank you Castiel, but please call me Lizzie.” Castiel nods in response.

“Dean, I need to research something. I will return later to continue our journey to Waterville,” he states and vanishes.

Lizzie blinks in response. Dean snorts in response, “He always does that, sorry. Angels tend to be dicks,” he tries to explain.

Lizzie waves it off, “No, no, that’s fine. Just … whoa, ya’ know?” she explains. She wrings her hands together and wrinkles her nose again in thought. “I’ve really gotta get Mikey going. Can you move the car to the back garage and come in through the kitchen?” He nods watching her make her way back up the front steps. She turns back to face him from the stop step. “At least now I know why I wanted to bake an apple pie today.”

Dean perks up at that, “Pie?”

Lizzie just laughs at him and shakes her head walking up the stairs, calling back, “Well, you have things you need to be doing mister. Go, go, go … time’s a wastin’ … stuff to do … demons to slay … yada, yada, yada … Shoo! Shoo! Shoo! ” She prattles off as she goes up to the house to finish up with Mikey.

Dean blinks and looks around. _What the hell was that? Oh yeah, Hurricane Lizzie just blew through._ He shakes his head, laughs, and turns to do her bidding.

Dean drives the Impala around and stores it in the back garage as she asked. Nothing really had changed that much in the time since he had been here as he looks around. Older, worn here and there, a fresh coat of paint there and such. He wanders in through the back to the kitchen where they settled around the old farmhouse kitchen table. The kitchen looks warmer and cozier than the last time. _That must be Lizzie’s touch._

Dean knew she had lost her father and grandmother shortly after the last time he saw her. He wonders where her life had taken her. She has a son. That much he knew so far. _How did I fall so far out of her life?_ She had been so important for so long. After the last time his father had picked him and Sammy up, John had just kept pushing and pushing with the training and the hunting. Her calls and letters just stopped. Then they just drifted apart.

>  _“I don’t have long Mouse. Dad is on a rampage. He got a call and then we ran back to your house, packed our stuff and tore out of there. We’ve only just stopped for some food and gas now. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. I don’t know what’s goin on. He won’t talk to me, and he is really pissed. I just wanted to say bye and I’ll write as soon as I can,” he explained._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _“D, listen, I really, really need to talk to you. You have to call me when you have time. Please promise me that you’ll call. It’s really important okay? Promise …” Lizzie begged into the phone frantically._

He did see her one other time, but he is too embarrassed to think about it. Sam had left for college and his father was off on a bender after the huge fight that preceded Sammy leaving. Dean was so lost and so lonely. His family was falling apart. He turned to the bottle as a means of comfort. Those first few days were a blur. He was lucky he did not die on the side of the road.

Somehow, he made it here to her. In the middle of the night, it was pouring rain and he was drunk almost to the point of incoherency. He woke up with the hangover from hell and was completely mortified that he did not remember what happened or how he got there. She was curled up next to him sleeping peacefully. He shot out of there as if hellhounds were hot on his heels. That was the last time he had seen her until today.

Dean leaves the kitchen as he makes his way back out from the kitchen and around to the side of the house to see that Daniel’s mother has just shown up.

Lizzie rushes a lanky-looking kid with dark blonde hair down the walkway to the awaiting car. He has an iPod ear bud stuck in his ear, a huge sports duffle bag over his shoulder and an overnight bag in his other hand. Lizzie chats with the other woman for a few minutes then ushers the boy into the car. He kisses and waves bye to his mother. She just stands there waving and watching as they pull away.

Lizzie watches after the car as it fades from view. She just stands there hugging herself quietly contemplating something. The sun is setting and she seems to glow in the fading light as he walks up behind her.

“Cute kid,” Dean says.

“Yeah,” Lizzie replies. “Just like his Daddy.” With that, she turns and heads for the house.

Dean stands there for a minute. “Uh, Mouse, how old is he?”

“Twelve,” Lizzie replies without turning around as she climbs the stairs and goes in the house.

Dean follows her up to the gate and stops, looking from up the road the car had departed, then looks back up to the house. “Uh…Lizzie?”

Dean races up the front stairs. He throws open the screen door and steps through looking both ways.

“Lizzie. I think we need to talk, now.” Dean tells her, rushing into the living room, standing behind the couch and watching her hug herself and stare out the front window. She sighs, looks down and up at Dean again. She seems very tired all of a sudden.

“Mouse, I just, uh, I mean, is…” Dean stutters as he tries to spit out what he is trying to ask.

Lizzie’s walks over and kneels on the couch facing him and takes both of his larger hands in her smaller ones. Studying them, she runs her thumb lovingly over his silver ring smiling sadly. She remembers the day she gave it to him, her Grandfather’s ring, before he left that summer after the funeral. _I miss Gampa so much._ It was so hard after he died. Nothing earth shattering or supernatural took him from her. It was just his time. He passed away quietly in his sleep one night and that was that. She raises Dean’s strong, callused hands to her lips, kisses them both and squeezes them, looking directly at him. “Yes, Mikey is your son,” she says simply. Smiling briefly and sadly, she squeezes his hands again, releases them and turns to head back to her grandfather’s study.

Dean is struck dumb for a few seconds. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers in a daze.

Lizzie spins back around and confronts him, “I tried Dean. Your father rushed you outta here like a pack of hellhounds was bearing down on him. I told you that night that I needed to talk to you, and you promised, _promised me_ that you would call as soon as you could. The next time I heard from you, you were pounding on my door at two in the morning drunk on my doorstep in the middle of a thunderstorm four years after that only to be gone the next morning before I woke up. Then, there was that pesky little issue of you dying and all,” she snaps.

“That’s still … but … you could’ve called me,” he yells.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me Dean Michael Winchester!” she yells back at him. “You have no idea what happened after you left, so don’t you dare sit there and try and judge me,” she snaps. “I _did_ try to call you, Dean!” she cried desperately. I called your father. I called Bobby. I called Pastor Jim. I left countless messages, and I sent letters to your P.O. boxes, everywhere I could think of to reach you,” she tells him as she walks through the house to the study. He follows her, fuming. She sits at her grandfather’s battered oak desk, opens the bottom drawer, pulls out a large mailing envelope and hands it to him. “I received this, a couple of months after Gran’s funeral,” she tells him quietly.

It is addressed to her in John Winchester’s scrawled handwriting. Dean blinks and stares at the package with a dazed look on his face.

“I, I don’t understand …” he stutters, his watery eyes met hers.

She moves around the desk. When she reaches out to him and squeezes his arm, trying to sooth him. “If you would like to read these, that’s fine. If not, that’s fine too, but it will explain everything. Stay in here if you like. I’m going to get your room ready for you and then start some dinner. I’ll check on you in a little bit,” she explains to him. Lizzie bites her lip, looks down to the floor and then up at him as she wrings her hands together. “Dean,” she begins,” I don’t ever want you to think that I intentionally tried to keep Mikey from you. That was never the case. He knows you’re his father. He knows all about you, actually. His hope was to meet you one day, but then with the Deal, and well … He does know that you came back. I have never lied to him. Whatever questions he asks me, I am honest with him. He knows about what we do and about all the nasties that are out there. I have never shielded him, but I do not force a hunter’s lifestyle on him. We help where we can, mostly research, supplies and a place to stay for those in need. But, I try to give him as stable an environment as I can.”

Dean is still staring at the envelope. Lizzie just squeezes his elbow again and turns to leave. “How did you know about the deal Mouse?”

“I know just about all of it D, from the Deal to … to Sammy,” she pauses and swallows heavily, “including _all_ the stuff in between. You sit and I’ll bring you a beer in a little bit. I’ll explain everything, I promise,” she said before she closed the door leaving Dean in the study.

Lizzie leaves Dean with the packet from his father and starts working on dinner. The easiest was spaghetti and meatballs. Over the years, she had learned to stock rations accordingly. You never knew who was going to be here at any given time. Mikey always had friends over, regular scout meetings and sleepovers when he was younger, camping out back with Daniel and Peter, PTA meetings, the various school leagues that Mikey was involved in, or the occasional hunter in need of a place to stay, restock, research and move on. She had truly tried to give him the closest thing to a normal childhood as possible. He understood who they were and never discussed their family outside of the home.

The townspeople knew the Owens’ were different. They always had been, but no one ever rocked the boat. Lizzie, however, was ostracized for the most part; sixteen, pregnant, living alone in that house with Sheriff Parker’s boy. _Why weren’t social services called?_ No one knew who the father was. It was often suspected to be one of those Winchester boys that frequented their house on extended intervals, but nothing ever concrete was confirmed or denied. Lizzie and Mikey simply refused to discuss personal matters. Through persistence and patience, they had carved a life for themselves as best they could.

She also was on a cooking frenzy this morning. She baked breads, cookies, brownies and two pies; something she always did when she was anxious.

Face it; the last year was a rollercoaster at best. Baking and cooking always soothed her. Most of it went to the soup kitchen associated with her church or to the shut-ins of the church; mostly the elderly or disabled patrons who were not able interact with the parishioners any longer.

Dinner was cooking, salad was done, and bread was warming in the oven. _Now or never, Lizzie._ Was he going to hate her? She knew he worshiped his father. How was he going to take this deception? So many questions. _Well, you won’t get any answers sitting here with your thumb up your butt._

 __

She grabs a beer out of the fridge, heading to the study, and knocks before entering.

~*~

After Lizzie leaves, Dean makes his way over to the old desk and sits behind it, clutching the envelope. It is postmarked six months after they had left that summer. There has to be over a hundred letters. All of them neatly made out to him at various addresses. None of them opened.

He starts opening a couple of them. In each envelope, there is a copy of the same letter. She always started the same, asking him to read the enclosed letter first. Then she would go on to whatever had happened that day. She apparently detailed all the stages of her pregnancy, her hopes, her dreams, her fears, her thoughts, and questions. These letters were all the same as those he had received from her in the past. No one ever knew, but he had kept all of the letters she had ever sent him over the years. He had a special place that he hid them at Bobby’s so they would not be lost and each time he visited, he would add to the stack.

The first letter tells him about the pregnancy and about her grandmother finding out, as well as the ensuing argument after that. They were still here at the time, but his father had taken him and Sammy off on a training exercise for the day and when they came back, within the hour they were leaving. He had only had time to say goodbye and they were gone.

He hates that she went through that alone. Estranged is the only way he can describe her relationship with her father and grandmother.

In her letters, she talked about how scared, excited and happy she was all at once. She explained how she had repeatedly tried to call him, but only got his and his father’s voicemails. She missed him and could not wait until he came back to see her. He shuffles through all the letters. He wants to read them all, but this is just so much to take in.

Why did his father keep this from him? He finds his answer at the bottom of the pile of letters. There is a handwritten letter from his father. It is hastily scribbled on stationery from some no-tell motel they must have been in at the time.

>  _Lizbeth –_
> 
>  __
> 
>  _Don’t try and contact Dean again._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _I will not have my son’s life ruined because you couldn’t keep your legs closed._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _Nothing will prevent him from finishing what we started._
> 
>  __

How could he do that? Why?

He has a son.

Dean sits back and surveys the pile of letters on the desk. He looks around the study. Not a lot has changed. There is a computer on another desk in the corner near the window. There are more pictures of her, Mikey and what looks to be Johnny, her childhood friend. That kid is the only person he trusts with Lizzie. They bonded in a way he could not even try to understand. There is nothing Johnny would not do for her, nor she for him. It is quite special and rare.

Dean continues to look around the study. A lot of her grandfather’s things are still in their same place, even his old record player and his records. Whenever Lizzie was upset, she would always play them. She had told Dean it made him not seem so far away. They always calmed her. Sometimes, Dean even swore he would sometimes hear her talking to her grandfather while she was alone listening and singing along to the various tunes from different eras. He was her mentor and confidant. Lizzie’s grandfather was whom she went to for guidance and advice. Dean thought it just made her feel better so he never made anything of it. She missed her grandfather terribly though she never mentioned it, but Dean knew.

He has a son.

 _God, I need a drink_ , Dean thinks. He’s about to get up when Lizzie knocks and appears in the doorway holding a bottle of beer.

“I thought you might be thirsty?” She asks as she walks over and sets the bottle down on a clear spot on the desk.

Dean reaches for and grabs her hand, holding it. She turns and looks at him worriedly biting her lip. He just pulls her into his lap, settles her in with her head on his shoulder and his arms gently but securely hugging her and lays his head on top of hers sighing. He turns and kisses her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into her hair. She just sighs and snuggles in close.

“It’s not your fault” is all she says, as she nuzzles his neck. They sit there relishing in the warmth and comfort of each other that they had missed. Lizzie pulls back and pecks him on the cheek. “I need to check on dinner,” she says as she climbs from his lap and leaves the room.

He once again surveys the pile on the desk. He grabs his beer, sat back with a sigh, and relaxed for the first time in a very long time.

 _I have a son_ , he thinks and smiles crookedly.

Dean wanders back into the kitchen to see Lizzie setting the table for the both of them. He watches her move confidently through her kitchen. She had always been an amazing cook. “What’s for dinner?” he asks suddenly starving.

“Nothing special, it’s just spaghetti and meatballs? I hope that’s okay?” she asks.

“It’s fine Lizzie. Did you finally give up your twigs and bark and shit?” he asks pulling the lid up off the pot of sauce and sniffing before he stuck his finger in to get a taste.

She slaps his hand away. “No. I’m still a vegetarian, but I also know not everyone is, like neither Johnny or Mikey, so I just work around it,” she shrugs.

“I still don’t think it’s natural,” he states rekindling their age-old debate.

“You think what you want to think. I don’t think it’s natural to butcher and ingest animal carcasses, so we agreed to disagree, D,” she replies wearily with her standard argument on the matter. “Here,” she mutters handing him the salad bowl, “go fix your plate, including the salad or no dessert for you,” she teases.

They sit and eat in companionable silence, before Dean dared broach the subject, “so are you gonna explain why Cas knows you?” Lizzie pauses in the middle of chewing and gets up to grab a beer. “Since when do you drink?”

“I don’t, but other grownups do show up so I try to have it on hand for them,” she replies grabbing herself another Coke. “I’ve been having visions on and off for years … and … then I stumbled onto Carver Edlund’s books online,” she grins sheepishly causing Dean to blush profusely. “So, you know about the Wincest then?” she teases. “It’s actually quite fascinating the dichotomy of it all, and the subsequent genre creations from the character base. There really is quite a passionate following.”

“You know about that crap? I mean, Jesus, we’re brothers for Christ’s sake,” Dean cringes and shudders.

“It’s not just about you two, you know. All the characters are subject to interaction in all types, shapes and sizes,” she teases again eliciting the same reaction. She sips her drink and ponders thoughtfully, “Like I said, it’s all quite fascinating, but enough about that,” she turns serious and takes a deep breath to continue, “I started reading the books. I mean, Hello! I stumbled on these books about characters Sam and Dean, who were hunters … who the hell knows about hunters, besides other hunters … so I read the first one and I just knew it was you guys. Then I just kept reading …” Dean squirms a little under her knowing gaze. “Got to be quite the lady’s man there didn’t you D?” she smirks.

Dean blushes yet again. _Damn it! This is getting fucking annoying_. Lizzie was his first … everything. He had fooled around a little with girls at other schools when he was not here with her, but honestly, everyone thought he was some sort of hound dog or something. Yeah, he has a very healthy libido, but until Sammy left for college, there really was not much more than his right hand, maybe a blow job in a dark alley or bathroom every once in a while. After Sam went to college, he showed up here and then ran away without even talking to her. After that, he threw himself into the job and the lifestyle. “Look …” he tries to say something.

She reaches across the table and puts her hand over his squeezing gently, “I get it,” she says softly before she gets up to clear away the plates from dinner and fix them some dessert.

"Can I ask you something D?" Lizzie questions softly as she goes to the freezer to get some ice cream for the pie.

"Yeah," Dean mutters as he looks up from picking at the label on his beer. He swallows heavily. _She really is beautiful_ , he thinks yet again watching her maneuver around her kitchen.

She swivels back and catches him leering. She blushes faintly. It's been years since anyone looked at her like that. Well, someone probably did but she never really cared or could be bothered. She delicately clears her throat, "How come you never freaked about the … things that tend to happen when I'm around?"

Dean blinks and stares up at her and shrugs. "I never thought about it. I mean it was always there, ya' know? You were never mean or anything or hurt anybody," he shrugs again.

"Then why were you so upset with Sammy?" she asks honestly, no judgment, only curiosity.

Dean's face darkens, "He wasn’t supposed to be like that. It's my fault. I shoulda taken better care of him. Watched his back more … maybe let him go when …" his fists tightens around the beer bottle. Lizzie's small hand wraps around his holding the bottle.

She looks at him with worry and concern, never with pity. "Always with the guilt," she mutters shaking her head. "Not everything is your fault Dean. One day you will realize that, I hope."

He sniffles and clears his throat roughly. She runs her fingers through his hair over his ear as she turns back to finish her task. He shivers slightly and leans into the caress, so freely and lovingly given. He finishes his beer and stands to walk over and get another one. When he turns back, she is seated watching him and a huge piece of apple pie with ice cream is waiting for him. As he resumes his seat, he grabs his fork, "So, your visions?"

“… After the hellhounds, things changed. My visions continued to become more graphic. I mean I wouldn’t even go to sleep some nights … I just … I’ll get back to that. You asked me how Castiel knew me. Let’s start there.”

“There’s more?” Dean asks suddenly unsure.

“Yeah," she replies with a nod, "A lot more. A whole lot more.” She takes a deep breath and begins. “Filiola is a term in Latin. It means “little daughter”. It is an ancient term that referred to the Daughters of Eve. “Little daughter” is what the Guardian of the Seals is referred to, which right now is me.

“Seals of what?” Dean asks fearing he knew the answer.

“The six hundred and sixty six seals that sealed Lucifer’s cage in Hell,” she replied simply. She waits for him to take a long drink. “I’m sayin’ this is old, really old, like The Beginning, Creation and all that.” She waits for him to process what she had said and continues. “After the serpent tempted Eve to bite the apple and she and Adam fell from grace, Eve was beside herself because of their banishment. She prayed day and night seeking forgiveness from God for her transgression and as such, he sent a messenger, the Archangel Gabriel. He told her the Archangel Michael would lay with Eve’s daughter, Ganya[[kew2]]($-0) , and they would produce a daughter. This child would be entrusted with visions, six hundred and sixty-six visions of the seals that would bind Lucifer’s prison. The first-born of every generation thereafter conceived of Michael and Ganya’s daughter would be entrusted with the duty of guarding the seals. If sixty-six of those seals were broken, then Lucifer would walk free and bring forth the apocalypse to destroy the world. After Eve’s message from Michael, she died within hours. Eve’s soul was the first demon.”

“Lilith?” Dean asks incredulously.

“Yes,” Lizzie stops to drink some of her Coke, and continues, “Ganya bore a daughter, Danya[[kew3]]($-1) . From when she was very young, her mother encouraged her to maintain a journal. Initially, it was mundane day-to-day activities of a young girl, but the month following her first menses, she began having the visions.”

“Mouse! I don’t really need to know that?” Dean grimaces.

“Yeah, actually, you do. Don’t you remember my first period?” she asks causing Dean to shudder visibly.

>  _“What’d you mean why haven’t I noticed you look more mature?” Dean asked confused as he ducked yet another book Lizzie threw at his head. He was working his shift and Lizzie came in all excited and acting weird. He just didn’t understand why she was fussing._
> 
>  __
> 
>  _A couple of the lights blew out and the temperature outside went up to 90 degrees, which would not have been so noticeable if it had not been snowing. This lead to golf ball sized hail and hurricane force winds before Thomas was able to calm Lizzie down._

“Since then,” Lizzie continued, “the Guardian has shown varying levels of aptitudes since birth; however, their full abilities begin to develop at the onset of puberty. Over the course of Danya’s life, she meticulously and diligently recorded all six hundred and sixty-six prophecies with the final one noted two days before her death. These prophecies were copied only once. The original is located in the vault below the family's library in town.”

Why was only one copy made of the prophecies?” He asks, leaning in, warming to the subject.

“Security, mainly. The Guardians have carried the original copy throughout the centuries until Abigail Owens settled on this island in sixteen twenty-three, after being banished from the Plymouth settlement,” she explains.

“Banished?” Dean asks.

Lizzie sheepishly replies, “Apparently I haven’t been the only problem child in the Owens clan.”

Dean smirks, “So, where is the other copy?” Dean asks.

“It was entrusted to Joseph and is believed to have been among the Dead Sea Scrolls, which were almost immediately entombed within the Vatican upon their discovery. The only thing I can assume is a demon somehow gained access and translated the prophecies,” Lizzie offers.

Lizzie worries her bottom lip, “Um, that’s only the beginning you know. There’s more you know … lots more. About two thousand years or so more, but there is something I do need to tell you. There were two specific seals that needed to be broken in a certain order," she pauses biting her lip. "I never knew you were The Righteous Man, D. I had my suspicions about Sammy, but I thought it was supposed to be your father and this wasn’t until several years after I had last seen you.”

“You know I broke the first seal?” Dean whispers. She nods in response. “How?”

“I felt it,” she says quietly. “It triggered a seizure. The only way I could explain it is it was like everything that happened to you in Hell was downloaded into my brain. I was in a coma for a month, and I woke up when Castiel pulled you out.”

Dean jumps up from his seat so fast it skids and slides across the floor. He turns green and starts to tremble slightly. His eyes begin to get glassy before he runs for the small bathroom in the back hallway. Lizzie knew this would be hard for him to hear. She sighs, rights the upturned seat and stops at the linen closet to get a small hand towel that she wets in the sink of the small lavatory, as Dean empties his stomach into the toilet. She fills and hands him a paper cup full of water, “Drink this D,” she tells him, which he does and crumples it throwing it weakly into the trashcan. She kneels down in front of him and wipes the cool cloth over his face.

“No, no …” Dean mumbles weakly as he tries to push her away. Lizzie continues ignoring his protests, wipes down the back of his neck, and rests the cloth there. She sits back and watches him. “How, how can you touch me? L-l-look at me even,” he whispers wetly. “How can you, you … I mean, I don’t, please don’t …” He tries to push her away again, too overcome with guilt and shame. She cradles his face in her hands and kisses him on the forehead. “Lizzie, I don’t ….please, this is too much, I can’t. I-I-I knew I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t want to lose you, too,” he says desperately. She ignores his protests and helps him to stand leading him to his old room. He is exhausted and just lets her. She stands him in front of his bed and undresses him. She moves to unbutton his jeans, “You know I can do this Mouse,” his voice rumbled thickly.

“I know. But for once, could you just let someone else take care of you?” she replies as she unfastens and pulls his jeans down for him to step out of. She pulls back the sheets and lightly shoves him so he sits back and climbs in begrudgingly. She tucks him in, pushes the hair back from his forehead and kisses it again.

“What am I five?” he grumbles.

“Just shut up and let me you creep. Rest. We’ll talk in the morning,” she says, as she closes his door. Surprisingly, Dean was asleep minutes later.

 _Apples and sunshine. Safe, warm, home._

~*~ __

* * *

[[kew1]]($-5) Latin for “little daughter”

[[kew2]]($-6) Garden of the Lord (Hebrew name)

[[kew3]]($-7) Gift of God (Hebrew name)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the actual dialog during Season 5 has been used, transcripts of which can be found at Supernatural Wiki. I transcribe verbatim for a living and you guys are awesome for doing this. I thought I was going to have to do it and it turned out to be a huge timesaver.

~*~

Dean woke up feeling more rested than he had felt in a long time, a very long time; in fact, he could not remember feeling this content. The life of a hunter is not very emotionally fulfilling. Connections are few and far between. Lizzie was always at the center. She understood what they did and where they came from.

Dean stealthily moves out of the bed and into the bathroom down the hall, where he splashes water on his face and brushes his teeth. He then goes down the back stairwell that leads to the kitchen. His intention was to clean up the mess from last night but it seems to have already been done. Just then, the door from the back of the house crashed open into the kitchen.

A mountain of a man folds himself through the doorway carrying two bags of groceries, a stack of mail under his arm and keys hanging out of his mouth. He mumbles to himself as he balances everything, putting the groceries on the table while spitting out the keys, and goes through it as he bellows. “Diz, you up? Come on you lazy bum! Get up. I figured with Mikey gone, we could go up to Boston and check out that exhibit we've been wantin’ to see. Will has to work at the hospital all weekend, so you got me to have your wicked way with, you vixen. Are you up? Wake up you little tramp! Come on, I even got some stuff for dinner that we can fix later. I know how you get when Mikey’s …” His tirade fizzles as he turns around after grabbing the groceries to put on the old butcher block.

 _My God, he got huge_ , Dean thinks to himself.

Johnny was the only person allowed to call her that ridiculous nickname. She had explained to Dean that the first time they had met at recess on the very first day they had started at St. Mary’s, Lizzie had been twirling and spinning around, by herself and she ran into him as he was sitting under a tree watching her. She had just flopped down and giggled that she was sorry, but she liked twirling, it made her dizzy and everything looked different afterward. He should try it, so he did. The only thing he found out was he had an inner ear problem and promptly threw up on her shoes. They’d been best friends ever since.

Johnny had definitely filled out over the years. He was bigger than Sammy was. He had to be at least six-feet, seven-inches and as wide as a barn. His hair was just as thick and black as ever though now stylishly arranged in a messy disarray. He still had the same soft brown eyes, which were now hardening and becoming cold.

“Uh, hey Johnny …” Dean smiles.

Lizzie wakes to hear Johnny come banging in from his night shift as the town’s sheriff. He was her oldest and dearest friend. He was there for all of the milestones of her life. Some days, she did not think she would have gotten through any of it without him.

>  _“Diz, you up?_ (God! She hated that name …) _Come on you lazy bum! Get up. I figured with Mikey gone, we could go up to Boston and check out that exhibit we've been wanting to see. Will has to work at the hospital all weekend, so you got me to have your wicked way with, you vixen. Are you up? Wake up you little tramp! Come on, I even got dinner that we can fix later. I know how you get when Mikey’s …”_
> 
>  __
> 
>  _“Uh, hey Johnny …”_ She hears Dean say.

“Oh shit!” she exclaims and scrambles out of bed. Lizzie runs skidding across the top of the stairs as she hears Johnny boom, “You SON OF A BITCH!” Reaching the bottom, she yells, “Johnny, No!” just in time to see him rear back and punch Dean in the jaw causing him to spin backwards into the counter. Johnny lunges for Dean.

Lizzie slips her way in between them. “Johnny, Johnny … come on now, stop it!” she tries pushing him back away from Dean.

Dean gets his second wind, “What the hell’s the matter with you?” he yells and lunges for Johnny with Lizzie stuck in between trying to keep them apart.

“ENOUGH!” she screams loudly and powerfully causing the bulb in the overhead light to explode and shatter. “Shit!” she mutters in a grumble, “You’re cleaning that up” pointing at Johnny. “I mean it Johnny, Back the Fuck Off!” she bellows shoving ineffectually at his massive chest, but he does back up.

Johnny is still fuming. “Do you have ANY idea what you did to her, you bastard? You told me to watch over her. I never thought it would be from you. Get out! Get outta here. You don’t belong here any more. You’ve done enough.” Dean is reeling from the venom Johnny is spewing.

“Johnny! Please! Just calm down okay, he didn’t know okay. You know that! He never knew about Mikey. Please calm down. I don’t need to clean up blood in my kitchen today thank you very much, sir” she tries to reason with him.

“I’m not talking about that!” he snaps. “Well, yeah, but no! _Your_ son,” he points viciously at Dean, “and I watched helplessly while she laid there lifeless for a month, A FUCKIN’ MONTH! I watched my best friend dying in front of me and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it. It’s all YOUR fault!”

“Johnny,” Lizzie whispers as she reaching for him. He crumbles in the middle of her kitchen folding her in his arms weeping openly and endlessly into her small frame. Lizzie whispers words of comfort as she cards her fingers in his hair and hugs his clinging body to hers. She turned him so that he looking at her. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asks him softly holding his strong jaw in her tiny hands gently brushing his tears away as they fall.

“How? How was I supposed to tell you? You keep having those visions. You’re exhausted all the time and don’t try and put up a front with me. Mikey knows too. Whatever’s goin’ on, it’s comin’ to a head and you and Dean are in the middle of it. I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to hold it together but when I saw him, I just kinda snapped.” He looks around Lizzie, “Uh, sorry man, it’s … it's been a _really_ hard year.”

Dean looks a little dazed. “No problem dude. I’m sorry too man. Could we just … um, you know?”

“Yeah I know,” Johnny returns and they shake hands. _Men_ , Lizzie thinks, _they say everything in saying nothing, exasperating._

“Look I’m gonna get outta here. I knew this was a bad idea.” Dean turned to leave.

“Don’t even think about it, Dean Michael!” Lizzie bellows. “If you even think about leaving again, I swear I will hex you and make you grow a tail. You stay right where …" she stops short and tilts her head, ""… uh-oh …”

She runs around Johnny to front door and peeks out the side window at the door. “Crap,” she mutters to herself. “Damn it,” she mutters again and turns to look at the two of them. “Shit. Don’t anyone go outside,” she instructs as she runs up the stairs. They hear water running and then she was running back down the stairs in less than five minutes, wearing black capri pants, her black Converse sneakers with a flowing baby-doll blouse. Castiel appears in the foyer when she reaches the bottom.

“Holy shit!” Johnny yelps and reaches for his gun, but he can’t pull it out.

“It’s alright Johnny,” Lizzie says, “this is Castiel, he’s an angel,” she explains.

“Damn it Diz, you know I hate it when you lock my holster, let go,” he mutters still fighting with it.

“Well I didn’t want you to shoot him or anything,” she explains.

“I would be unharmed Filiola,” Castiel assures her. “I should go with you,” he states.

“Don’t be ridiculous, they want you and Dean. You know that,” she states in frustration.

“Who?” Dean yells in an aggravated tone. He looks outside and sees nothing. She and Castiel move the curtain again and peek from either side. There is a slight flash outside; enough to cause Dean and Johnny peek out the other side window.

Dean watches her, “Mouse?” he asks.

“Huh?” she replies startled. She squares her shoulders, and before she opens the door, she turns back to the others, specifically Castiel and Johnny, “I want everyone to stay in here, understand.”

“Why,” Dean asks.

“Because I’ll have a harder time protecting you out there,” she replies.

She stiffens her spine and walks through the doorway, cautiously making her way down the steps and proceeding down the walkway stopping about twelve feet from the gate.

~*~ __

Dean watches as Lizzie starts talking to no one. Zachariah appears with a couple of his henchmen. Johnny puts a huge hand on his shoulder, “Dean, trust her. She knows what she’s doing.”

“They’re gonna tear her apart,” he seethes.

Johnny chuckles softly. “You haven’t been paying attention, have you?”

Dean just stands there watching immobile between an angel and a giant. _What is she doing?_

~*~

“We have come for the vessel,” Zachariah pompously informs Lizzie.

“I’m sorry that’s not going to be possible,” she responds.

“What,” he screeches. “Do you know who I am?” he bellows.

“Yes, I’m very well aware of who you are Zachariah, and I have to say she was right about you,” Lizzie offers.

“Who? What are you blabbering on about?” he asks indignantly.

“Danya, she thought you were an ass, well those were not her exact words, but the sentiment was the same,” Lizzie replies.

“Why, you insolent little witch!” Zachariah storms at Lizzie, but six inches from the gate, there is a flash and he is thrown back onto the sidewalk, landing on his butt. He looks quite shocked.

“I do apologize for that Zachariah, but with the uncertainty of loyalties of late, I have had to safeguard against all possibilities,” Lizzie informs him.

“You cannot do this. You have your task to perform and that is it,” he bellows self-righteously.

“Exactly,” Lizzie seethes, “You guys started this free-for-all and now, I have to clean it up. You saw fit that there really weren’t many other options available now didn’t you? You and Lilith saw to that right nicely?”

“Stupid little mud-monkey bitch, going off about things you know nothing about,” Zachariah mutters.

“I know you were involved with all of this. I had a vision of your conversation with Dean when you “explained” how we had gotten here. How could you? God created humans for a reason. All I have seen with the exception of a very few angels are that they are self-centered, selfish, egotistical and spiteful. Because of your shortsightedness, you forced the hand. All of you and now the game pieces are in place. You have initiated your war on our battlefield. I will be damned if I sit back and allow you to destroy it. You disgust me. Leave and don’t come back. You’re not welcome here.”

“Not without my vessel,” Zachariah fumes.

“Excuse me? _Your_ vessel? Dean is not _Your_ vessel, Zachariah. He’s Michael’s and last time I checked, you weren’t him”

“I don’t have to stand here and…,” he sputters indignantly.

“You’re right, you don’t! Leave. Ba-bye now,” Lizzie replies sarcastically as she mockingly waves goodbye to him.

Zachariah changed tactics. “How _is_ Mikey doing? ” Zachariah remarks snidely.

The skies turn black, the wind howls, lightening flashes, thunder roars and frozen sleet falls. Within a minute, it was sunny and bright again with no signs of foul weather.

“You need to watch yourself Zachariah,” Lizzie warns. All pretense of politeness vanishes; in its wake lays the freezing cold depths of Lizzie’s unrelenting stare. “Don’t cross me, or it will end badly for you.” There was a rustle of feathers and Zachariah and his henchmen disappear.

Dean comes barreling out of the house with Johnny and Castiel following closely behind him. “What the hell is goin’ on?” he yells. “Zach’s here, Cas pops out here, then Zach’s gone, you’re talking to air. I want answers and I want 'em now,” he growls.

Lizzie turns to Dean. “Okay,” she says and walks up to the house.

“Oh. Well, all right then,” he fizzles. “I knew you’d see it my way,” he puffs up. “What just happened?” He whines to Castiel.

“You will need to talk to Lizzie about that,” Castiel replies.

“Damn it,” Dean growls. Johnny starts chuckling. “Shut up! You were no help whatsoever.”

~*~

All yesterday and today, Mikey kept feeling that something was off. His mother had kept something from him. He left the soccer camp early with one of the interim coaches and got a ride back to the school, claiming that he was not feeling well and wanted to go home.

As he turns the corner to his house, he stops short. In the driveway sits a 1967 black Chevy Impala. He reaches into the pocket of his jean shorts and clutches its likeness. His mother had given it to him when he was younger. He always carried it with him. She had told him that car was his father’s pride and joy.

The screen door opens and closes. Mikey turns to the porch. His mother was standing there holding a glass of lemonade.

She walks quickly down the stairs and comes to the gate. “Baby, are you okay? You aren’t due home until tomorrow.”

“I just … I’m uh, Momma?” Mikey stutters. He suddenly feels terrified.

She opens the gate and clasps his hand with her free hand. She walks him to the edge of the driveway and the person working under the hood of the car.

“Dean? I brought you some lemonade. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

He comes out from under the hood of the car and wipes his arm across his sweaty forehead. As he turns, he grabs a rag and starts wiping off his hands while he stares at Lizzie and Mikey.

He fidgets with his hands in the rag, as he does not know what to do. He clears his throat and finally offers his hand, “Hello, Michael.” His voice sounding sure and confident, but Lizzie knew he was terrified.

Mikey looks at Dean’s hand and let’s go of his mother’s hand. He tentatively reaches to shake Dean’s hand, but thinks better of it. He steps in and hugs Dean around his waist. Strong, solid arms engulf him and he feels safe and secure in his father’s arms.

~*~

Lizzie’s eyes water as she sees Mikey hug Dean. She was so worried about this. Mikey always said he wanted to meet Dean, but actually seeing him? That was going to be the true test. She had always been open and honest about her relationship with Dean to Mikey. She never regretted a moment of it. She was only sad that Dean was not there when Mikey was born.

As always, Johnny was there for everything. He had fought long and hard with his mother about Lizzie. As far as the town was concerned, her life was ruined, pregnant at 16, honestly. Eventually, Johnny’s mother came around, but, Johnny was there for it all, Lamaze, the birth and all of Mikey’s firsts.

After Lizzie lost her family, Johnny moved in to help as much as he could before going off to college. Together they struggled, he 18 and she 16, but never backing down.

After high school, Johnny was offered a full basketball scholarship to Providence College, which, after much debate, he did accept but only after deferring a year so that he could help Lizzie with Mikey, which made her absolutely furious. When he finally did attend, he completed his four-year course of study in three years carrying a double major of Psychology and Political Sciences. He graduated with honors and promptly moved home, joining the local police force as his father had. In time, he became the town’s sheriff.

Through it all, Lizzie was always there for him in every way she could be. Life was hard, but they persevered. Lizzie also attended night school part-time, worked at home and raised Mikey while Johnny was away and about the same time he came home, she had completed her education and training and had become a Registered Nurse and worked the off shifts at the local ER from Johnny so that Mikey was cared for. They had created a solid, stable life for Mikey until last year when Lizzie ended up in the hospital after her seizure.

~*~

Mikey pulls away from Dean and looks up at him. He was tall, with broad shoulders. Dean and Mikey had the same color eyes. Further similarities stood out more now that they were next to each other. Mikey’s lips were not as full as Dean’s. He had insanely long eyelashes like his father and freckles too.

“Um, what do I call you?” Mikey asks hesitantly while he blushes furiously.

Dean just chuckles nervously as he reaches back to scratch his neck. “Well, your mom and I have talked about that and we both think you should call me whatever you’re comfortable with? It’s really up to you. Dean is fine if that is better for you.”

“Do you mind if I call you that for now? I want to call you ‘Dad,’ but um, I need, I want…” Mikey stammers.

“It’s alright sweetie,” Lizzie walks forward, puts her arm around Mikey’s waist, and kisses his temple. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, you don’t have to explain unless you want to. This is a big adjustment for all of us, so we have agreed to go forward at your pace, okay? I have some things to take care of in the house before I get ready to start dinner. Do I need to call your coach, Mikey?”

“No. I told them I wasn’t feeling well and got a ride home with Coach Smith,” Mikey admits bashfully.

“Dean, why don’t you show Mikey what you’ve been working on? I think it will be good for him to start to learn about cars so he can keep up the maintenance on the family car when the time comes,” Lizzie instructs them.

Dean chuckles when Mikey makes an excited face. “What happened to your Beetle Bug that your grandfather brought you?”

“It is in the garage in the far back of the property. We needed something more soccer team friendly in the last couple of years. She has been retired. I want Mikey to be able to take care of her for me. She will be pulled out of the mothballs when he starts driving,” she tells him.

“You’re not gonna to make him drive a chick car are you?” Dean teases.

Lizzie jams her fist in her hip and cocks the opposite hip outward. “I’ve told you that I don’t like your sexist attitude towards my baby.” she snarks.

When Lizzie was fourteen, she had found the car that she wanted and did not rest until her grandfather bought it. It was a 1967 yellow convertible Volkswagen Beetle Bug car. It was in sad shape and Dean, Sam, Johnny and Thomas worked to rebuild it from top to bottom. It was Lizzie’s through and through. Dean also helped with the mechanical end when he could, but by that last summer with her grandfather, it was done, stored away and ready for her to drive when the time came.

“I don’t mock your macho-manly obsession with your girl now do I? I expect the same respect,” she informs Dean. “You boys have fun. If you need anything, I’ll be in the house.”

They work patiently together as Dean describes what he was doing, shows Mikey and eventually lets him help in changing the Impala’s oil and air filter.

When they were almost finished, Johnny comes home from running some errands. “Oh sweet! You still have this car. Man, I used to love this thing. She still looks awesome” Johnny gushed.

“Yeah,” Dean says fondly, “she’s my baby.”

“Hey Uncle Johnny look, Dean had me help him change the oil and the air filter. Pretty cool, huh?” Mikey beams at his uncle.

“Yeah short-stuff that is pretty cool” Johnny reaches over and tousles his hair affectionately.

“Uncle Johnny! You know I don’t like you callin’ me that anymore. God! I’m almost 13,” he said with his face scrunched in disgust.

Dean just kind of blinks and watches the exchange. Johnny laughs and says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry … hard habit to break.”

He watches the look on Dean’s face and chuckles. “Scary isn’t it. He’s like a younger, taller version of her isn’t he.”

Dean laughs softly, “Yeah he is.”

Johnny’s face turns serious as he says to Dean, “Um, hey you know I just wanted to say that I was sorry about well everything, ya’ know. You had it rough over the last couple of years.”

Dean just looked up at Johnny and Johnny continues. “Lizzie’s told me. I hope you don’t mind? She just, she …”

Dean continues for him, “She needed someone to talk to … I get it,” he says quietly.

Johnny tilts his head to the side _. He’s not thinking what I think he’s thinking? Is he? No, he doesn’t think that me and Lizzie …_ Johnny ponders as they clean up and go inside to get ready for dinner.

They walk in and Lizzie has her iPod on again. She is dancing around the kitchen while she is cooking and singing at the top of her lungs.

All three of them just stop and stare as she sashays around the kitchen spinning, swinging her hips and dancing with the kitchen door.

>  _Yea, yea there’s a girl I know_
> 
>  __
> 
>  _Yea, yea well I love her so_
> 
>  __
> 
>  _Well she’s a little of this a little of that_
> 
>  __
> 
>  _She makes my heart go flip-pity flap oh baby, baby I just love her so  
> _

She must have heard them because she spins around clutching her knife, “You assholes,” she mutters affectionately as she pulls out her ear buds and goes back to cooking with a red face.

Johnny walks up behind her laughing, hugs her from behind, and kisses the top of her head; “You know we love your renditions of the Ramones any day Diz.” She just elbows him in the stomach grinning as she goes on cutting. Dean watches the exchange sadly. There was a time when that would have been him, but not anymore.

Johnny snags pepper from pile of cut veggies. “Oh I almost forgot. Will is stopping by after his shift. I asked him to dinner, is that a problem?”

“Of course not. I’m sure there will be plenty,” she laughs.

She looks over at Dean with a little bit of a concerned look on her face. He looks kind of sad as he stares out the window. She turns back to Johnny who sees the exchange.

“I think I’m gonna go jump in the shower before dinner,” he says as he backs up to the stairs to go upstairs.

“Yes, please do all of us a favor. Didn’t want to say anything but my veggies are curling,” she smirks waving her hand back and forth in front of her nose. She sends a silent ‘thank you’ to him to which he just winks and throws the rest of his uneaten pepper at her as he ducks out muttering, “Wench” under his breath.

She turns to Dean and asks, “Are you alright? You got awfully quiet all of a sudden.”

“Huh? Oh me? Nah, I’m fine. Just fine,” He claps and rubs his hands together, “Can I help?” he offers.

Lizzie is still not convinced but goes along with him. He will tell her eventually, he always does. “You can get the plates down and set the table. That would be a huge help, thanks.”

They putter around the kitchen as she makes dinner and Dean helps where he can. “So,” he starts, “You and Johnny….”

“Huh? Me and Johnny what?” she asks him confused.

“Well you’re together, right?” Lizzie stops stirring the risotto; "Together?" she stretches out the word, trying to figure out what Dean is trying to ask her.

“You and Johnny, you’re together. I mean I see the pictures all over the house, he obviously lives here so… How long have you two crazy kids been together?” Dean asks with false cheer and bravado.

Lizzie could not hold it in any longer, she started laughing so hard she doubled over and fell on the floor. “You, you think me and JOHNNY …” she cackles.

“Well, yeah, aren’t you? I mean I always knew he had a thing for you growing up. I just want you to know that I’m happy for you. He really is a great guy,” Dean continues confused.

“Oh Jesus Christ! You’re serious aren’t you D? You really believe,” she looks at him, and the confused, dazed look on his face. “Wait a minute. You think Johnny had a crush on me while we were growing up?” She asks standing up from the floor and dusting off her backside.

“Um, yeah?” he asks confused.

“Oh sweetie," she walks over to him and puts her hand on his arm. “’m not the one he had a crush on,” she tells Dean.

Just then, Johnny comes jogging down from upstairs, “So what did I miss, I heard you laughing. Did you tell her a dirty joke? You know how she gets, Dean. You didn’t wet your pants again did you Diz?” He laughs at his own joke.

“Striapach[[TW1]]($-11) ” Lizzie muttered, “No, actually …” she starts.

The front door opens as someone walks in while knocking. “Don’t mind me bargin’ in do ya’ luv?”

Johnny’s face lights up “Hey babe,” Johnny lumbers over and doubles almost in half as he passionately kisses the stranger … the very male stranger.

Dean’s mouth hangs to the floor as he stares. Lizzie elbows him in the rib and mouths “Don’t be rude!” She delicately and discretely coughs to get their attention.

They pull apart and the stranger turns to Lizzie “Sorry luv, ya’ know the big lug can’t keep his hands off me.” He winks. “Well aren’t you fit as fuck? Did ya’ bring me a prezzie, luv? Cheers mate.”

Lizzie and Johnny laugh, and Dean turns white then red, “Uh Lizzie?” he stammers.

“Dean, this is Will; Johnny’s _boyfriend_. And I’m sorry my little blonde bomber, he bats for the other side, sweetie,” she responds fondly.

Will was a little shorter than Dean, lean but well built. He had wavy, bleached blonde hair and startling blue eyes that took in everything around him keenly.

“Shame that. Well go on wit’ ya’ then. Heard a lot bout ya’, mate.” Will sticks his hand out to Dean who shakes it and grins weakly.

“Johnny, I’m sure Will would like to freshen up after his shift. If you are staying the night, Mikey is home early. I would rather not send him to bed with my earplugs thank you.” Dean pales again.

“Nah, we’ll go round my place lata’ on then. We both have tomorrow off ya’ know,” he winks at Dean who swallows loudly.

“Don’t tire Johnny out too much, okay? I need help with some chores when he gets a chance, or you let him up for air,” she winks at him.

“I’m standing right here you know,” Johnny growls.

“Yes, I know and that is why its so fun to tease you now go … shoo and keep it PG you two. We have other guests in the house.” Johnny chases Will through the kitchen and up the stairs.

“Hey Will” Mikey calls out from upstairs. A few seconds later, he is clomping down the stairs. “Hey mom, do I have time to go to the library? I think I, uh, forgot something there.”

“Yes you have some time.” Mikey leans down and kisses her on the cheek as he barrels to the back door smiling and slightly waving awkwardly to Dean in passing. “Dinner will be at six. Don’t be late,” she yells after him as he runs down the back steps.

“He’s Gay!” Dean yells in a staged whisper. Lizzie giggles, “Uh-huh.”

“You knew,” Dean hisses.

“Well, yeah! I’ve always known.”

“How long?” Dean asks.

“Um, since he was ten, I think, at least that was when started to question things. He finally told me when he was sixteen and he knew for sure. He came out to his mom when he was eighteen. His dad was gone by then, but you knew that. That went over … not well, but she loved him and accepted him eventually. He was so devastated when she wouldn’t acknowledge that conversation, so sad. I told you I wasn’t the one he had a crush on."

“Oh,” Dean says. “OOOH! You mean, he, um …” Dean stammers and blushes “… Seriously?”

“Oh yeah! We were both moon-eyed over you,” she responds fondly.

Later that night after Mikey went to bed and Will and Johnny had left for the night, Dean and Lizzie were talking over coffee at the kitchen table.

"So, how does it work … the visions? I know you used to have dreams or feelings before," he asks.

"Well, since the coma, it's like … I go to sleep and for lack of a better word, a dream is as good a description as any really. My brain like … downloads … your day? I guess? I don’t honestly understand it, but we are linked. In all honesty, I don’t think they really knew what would happen when they first started this crusade," she mulls over.

"Does it hurt?" Dean asks.

"More like an annoying headache," she says, trying to soften the blow with a small smile. "None of the other guardians were like me. Mikey isn’t either. He can see auras and is empathic, but that is the extent of it. Must be why I've always been a freak," she mutters.

Dean runs his finger down her pinkie that is lying outstretched near his hand on the table, "Yeah, but you're my freak," he says softly watching her. She just smiles softly at him and blinks the moisture from her eyes as she curls her pinkie around his calloused finger.

~*~

Castiel joins Dean the next day at Lizzie's and they leave Lizzie’s home for her to tie up a few loose ends before she joins them. They arrive in Waterille, Maine and pull up to the sheriff’s department. They get out of the car. Dean leans over the Impala and asks Castiel, “And we're here why?”

Castiel surveys up and down the street before he answers, “A deputy sheriff laid eyes on the archangel.”

“And he still has eyes?” Dean asks incredulously. He claps his hands together, “All right, what's the plan?”

Castiel looks at seriously at Dean and explains, “We'll...tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord, and the officer will tell us where the angel is.”

Dean looks at Castiel like he has lost his mind, “Seriously? You're going to walk in there and tell him the truth?” he squints under the thought of even considering that options as well as the bright noonday sun shining down on them.

Castiel tilts his head to the side questioning, “Why not?”

“Because we're humans,” he explains as he pulls out another fake ID and stashes it inside Castiel’s coat. He reaches over and adjusts Castiel’s clothes to make him look presentable. “And when humans want something really, really bad, we lie.”

Castiel scoffs with a confused look and tilt of his head, “Why?” he asks as Dean has finished buttoning the top button of his shirt, readjusting his tie, and brushes out some of the wrinkles in his suit jacket and trench coat.

“Because that's how you become President,” Dean informs Castiel with a friendly pat on the shoulder. He then walks towards the sheriff’s department. Once inside, Dean approaches one of the officers talking in the hallway, “Deputy Framingham?” The deputy turns around and Dean holds up an FBI badge by way of introduction, “Hi. Alonzo Mosely, FBI. This is my partner, Eddie Moscone,” gesturing to Castiel who does nothing. Dean fidgets slightly, “Also FBI,” he explains. Castiel still does nothing. He catches Dean staring at him out of the corner of his eye and catches on. He then pulls out his FBI badge, which he displays, upside-down. Dean rolls his eyes, reaches over and turns it over for him and explains in exasperation, “He's, uh, he's new. Mind if we ask you a few questions?” Castiel looks down at the ID curiously for the first time.

“Yeah, sure; talk here though,” Deputy Framingham, points to his right ear, leading Dean and Castiel to his office. “Hearing's all blown to hell in this one,” he explains.

“That happen recently?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. Gas station. Why you're here, isn't it?” Deputy Framingham asks assessing the two of them.

“Yes, it is,” Dean explains. They all sit down and he asks, “You mind just, uh, running us through what happened?”

Deputy Framingham sighs wearily recalling the events. “A call came in, disturbance out at the Pump and Go on Route 4.”

“What kind of disturbance?” Dean asks.

He rests his arms down on his desk and clasps his hands. “Would not have believed my eyes if I hadn't seen it myself. We're talking a riot. Full scale.”

Dean pulls out a notepad and begins to make notes. “How many?”

“Thirty, forty, in all-out kill-or-be-killed combat?” he explains.

“Any idea what set them off?” Dean inquires looking up from his notebook.

Castiel leans over to Dean and offers his opinion, “It's angels and demons, probably.” Deputy Framingham stares at Castiel who simply stares back at him. “They're skirmishing all over the globe,” he explains.

Deputy Framingham questions with a confused look on his face, “Come again?” He turns to Dean for clarification, “What did he say?”

“Nothing. Nothing,” Dean says and at the same time, Castiel says “Demons. Demons.” Dean glares at Castiel who petulantly sits back in his seat and shuts up. Dean nervously clears his throat and tries to recover, “Demons, you know, drink, adultery. We all have our demons, Walt,” he nervously laughs.

Deputy Framingham looks back and forth between them, “I guess,” he mutters.

Dean glares at Castiel for almost blowing their cover, “Anyway,” Dean says returning his attention to Deputy Framingham, “What happened next?”

“Freaking explosion, that's what,” he explains. “They said it was one of those underground gas tanks, but, uh, I don't think so.”

“Why not?” Dean urges.

Hesitantly, Deputy Framingham tries to explain, “Wasn't your usual fireball. It was, um …”

“Pure white,” Castiel offers.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Gas station was leveled. Everyone was...it was just horrible. And I see this one guy, kneeling, real focused-like, not a damn scratch on him,” he continues.

“You know him?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, Donnie Finneman. He’s a mechanic there,” he explains.

“Let me guess, he just, uh, vanished into thin air?” Dean offers.

“Uh, no, Kolchak. He's down at Saint Pete's,” he says.

Castiel turns to Dean and says, “Saint Pete's.” Dean looks at Castiel and then at the deputy and thanks him for his time and his help.

~*~

At St. Pete’s Hospital, Donnie Finneman is sitting in a wheelchair, catatonic. Dean and Castiel are watching him from the hallway window. Dean sighs gesturing through the window, “I take it that's not Raphael anymore.”

“Just an empty vessel,” Castiel replies heavily.

“So is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps in my bones?” Dean asks curiously.

Castiel looks at Dean and then back to Donnie Finneman, “No, not at all. Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you.” Dean simply looks away and they leave.

~*~

Dean walks through the empty cabin, paging through John's journal. He sets it down on the table and turns. Castiel is standing there, holding a ceramic jar. Dean startles and snaps, “Where've you been?”

Castiel looks around the room, “Jerusalem,” he replies offhanded.

“Oh, how was it?” Dean replies sarcastically.

Dryly, Castiel replies, “Arid.” He sets the jar on the table.

Dean watches Castiel place the jar on the table and gestures to it in confusion, “What's that?”

“It's oil. It's very special. Very rare,” he explains before he sits down.

Dean rolls his eyes and asks sarcastically, “Okay, so we trap Raphael with a nice vinaigrette?”

“No,” Castiel sighs.

“So this ritual of yours, when does it got to go down?” Dean asks, as he picks up the journal again and fingers through it.

“Sunrise,” he states.

“Tell me something,” Dean asks “You keep saying we're gonna trap this guy. Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?”

“No, it's harder,” Castiel responds.

“Do we have any chance of surviving this?” Dean asks putting down the journal and facing Castiel.

“You do,” he answers.

Dean rubs his face and replies, “So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow?”

“Yes, Castiel replies simply.

“Well. Last night on earth. What're your plans?” he asks.

“I just thought I'd sit here quietly,” Castiel tells him.

Dean looks at him incredulously, “Come on, anything? Booze, women?” Castiel looks at Dean and looks away, uncomfortable. “You have been with women before, right? Or an angel, at least?” Castiel rubs the back of his neck. “You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?”

“I've never had occasion, okay?” Castiel snaps and glares at Dean with an irritated, nervous look.

Dean looks around, smirks and grabs his jacket. “All right. Let me tell you something. There’re two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. And two, you’re not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go.” Dean leaves and stomps out to the Impala. Castiel looks back and forth, moves to stand, sits back, then stands again, and follows Dean.

~*~

Dean drinks his beer as he responds to Lizzie’s text. She had just arrived in town and he was texting the address to where they were. He pockets his phone and looks around at all the scantily clad women and then over at Castiel. He looks terrified, "Hey, relax.”

“Dean,” Castiel panics, “This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here.”

“Dude,” Dean explains, “you full-on rebelled against heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks.” A prostitute approaches, Dean notices and murmurs, “Showtime,” as he smiles up at the woman.

“Hi,” she purrs, “What's your name?” Castiel looks everywhere but at her in his nervousness.

“Cas,” Dean says a little louder than necessary startling him. Castiel jumps and looks sheepishly at his untouched beer. “His name is Cas. What's your name, darlin’?”

“Chastity,” she replies.

“Chastity,” Dean confirms with a smirk and an eyebrow raise. Castiel looks warily at the woman and nervously reaches for his beer and begins to chug it down. “Wow,” he replies sarcastically watching the two of them, “Is that kismet or what, buddy? Well, he likes you, you like him, so Dayenu,” Dean declares with a smirk.

Chastity reaches for Castiel’s hand, tugs him up, “Come on, baby,” she purrs seductively and leads him to the back.

Dean catches Castiel’s arm as he passes by, “Hey, listen. Take this,” he says and hands him a handful of money. “If she asks for a credit card,” he instructs Castiel, “No. Now just stick to the basics, okay? Do not order off the menu. Go get her, tiger,” he smiles encouragingly. Castiel stays still with a petrified look on his face. “Don't make me push you,” Dean warns. Castiel takes the money and turns to follow Chastity. Another prostitute walks past; Dean stares lasciviously after her and smirks as he follows her.

At the bar, she and Dean clink glasses when he smoothly murmurs, “Well, cheers to you,” when his phone vibrates.

Do you want to explain to me why the flippin’ hell I’m standing in the foyer of a whorehouse?

“Uh, excuse me darlin’, I need to take care of this,” he explains with a nervous laugh waving his phone as he steps down from his stool at the bar and looks around for the entrance.

He walks up to entrance and can hear Lizzie talking to the owner, “No, no really ma'am, I’m just here to find a friend of mine that is in there,” Lizzie tries to explain.

“Well, now darlin’ you know that’s the gentleman’s lounge, the lady’s is through here love,” the madam explains pointing to the bar on the other side of the foyer.

“The lady’s?” Lizzie questions looking through the entrance noticing several gentlemen in the room, socializing with other women and wandering the room, in a scene very similar to what she saw in the gentleman’s lounge when she spotted Dean at the bar chatting over drinks with a woman in some rather revealing lingerie. “Really?” she exclaimed noting a rather rugged looking tall man with shoulder length dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, tight jeans, a leather vest covering a very broad naked chest and a cowboy hat and boots. She delicately cleared her throat and blushed slightly, “Well now isn't that interesting” she replies turning to enter and investigate further.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean snaps.

Lizzie jumps and spins around with a squeak, “Dean! Me?" she stutters and then angrily advances on him, "I guess I could ask you the same thing,” she snaps back.

Dean had the decency to blush slightly, “I brought Cas here.”

Lizzie blinks and moves in closer to him asking, “You brought _Castiel_ here? Why?”

“Well, he, uh, need to take care of _things_ ,” Dean tries to explain.

She stares at him and his attempt at explaining the situation. She turns and politely smiles at the matron, “Would you excuse us for just a moment ma'am. Oh and can you let the rather delicious looking tall, dark cowboy I am definitely interested in an introduction,” she finishes sweetly.

Dean blinks in surprise, and growls, "No she's not …"

Lizzie grabs his elbow and drags him over to the corner out of earshot. “What exactly does a freakin’ Angel of The Lord _need_ to take care of in a brothel?” she snarks.

“And what exactly do you need an introduction to Brokeback for?” Dean accuses angrily.

She glares up at him, “Well you didn’t seem to have any problems making the acquaintance of Ms. Jezebel at the bar.”

“That’s different,” Dean snaps.

Lizzie’s eyebrows shoot up, “Really? Care to explain your logic in that one, man-whore? I'd love to hear this,” Lizzie snarls.

Dean puffs up to tear into Lizzie as she is glaring daggers at him when another gentleman comes out from the office in the back dressed more for a country club carrying a folder and ledger, “Hey mom, I need … Lizzie?”

Lizzie spins around when she hears her name, “Brian? Oh my God, what are … what're you doing here?” she asks running over and hugging him.

“This is my mom’s place,” he explains pointing to the madam. They all turn with a start at a scream that comes from the back. Dean and Lizzie look at each other, she nods with a look like, “I’ve got this,” and he runs to investigate.

In the back corridor of the brothel, Chastity is smacking Castiel in the chest yelling at him, “Get out of my face! Leave me alone! Bastard! Screw you, jerk!” She throws something at Castiel, who is a little disheveled. “I'll kill you!” she screams storming past Dean who jerks back. “Screw you too! God! Oh! Jerk!” she yells at him in passing.

Dean approaches Castiel asking, “The hell did you do?”

Castiel, disheveled, shirt open a few buttons, tie more askew than usual, clearly confused as he watches after Chastity, “I don't know. I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father, Gene, ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office.”

Dean rubs his hand back and forth across his chin, “Oh, no, man.”

Castiel now looks at Dean in confusion, “What?”

“This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It's, it's the natural order.” Two bouncers enter from the door Chastity ran through, “Gotta go,” he mutters as he stares at the doorway and reaches for Castiel pulling him after him heading for the door on the opposite end of the corridor.

Dean is laughing as he closes the door behind himself and Castiel who is leaning against him confused and smiling, shirt a crumpled mess and half open, “What's so funny?”

“Huh?” Dean asks leading them to the Impala and opening the door, “Oh, nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years,” he ponders as his face falls in realization. His phone vibrates and he pulls it out to read the text.

You soooo owe me. Red Roof Inn, 3 blocks from here, Room 104. I’ve got your room key. xoxo

Dean smirks and texts back that him and Castiel have something to finish up and he is not sure how long he will be and closes the phone and gets in to drive them to the hospital.

They sneak into Donnie’s room at St. Peter’s and Dean closes the shade while Castiel pours the oil in a circle around Donnie’s wheelchair explaining, “When the oil burns, no angel can touch or pass through the flames, or he dies.”

Dean claps his hands together and surveys everything, “Okay, so we trap him in a steel cage of holy fire, but one question. How the hell do we get him here?”

“Very simple,” Castiel explained. “There's, well, almost an open phone line between a vessel and his angel. One just has to know how to dial.” Castiel leans down to Donnie’s ear and chants in Enochian. “I'm here, Raphael. Come and get me, you little bastard,” Castiel leaves the oil circle.

Dean watches the scene and asks, “Just out of curiosity, what is the average customer wait time to speak to an archangel?”

“Be ready,” Castiel states as he lights a match and drops it on the oil, which bursts into a ring of flame.

~*~

Dean and Castiel drive up to a house. “Well that's a day I'll never get back,” he snaps sarcastically.

They enter the abandoned house they were using earlier, “Dean, wait,” Castiel says and a bright light fills the room. Donnie is already inside the cabin, flaring with lightning in the shape of wings; now he is Raphael. What few light bulbs are in the area shatter. “Castiel,” he sneers.

“Raphael,” he replies. Dean and Castiel walk closer.

“And I thought you were supposed to be impressive,” Dean goads. “All you do is black out the room.”

“And the Eastern Seaboard,” Raphael says and lightning flashes outside. “It is a testament to my unending mercy that I do not smite you here and now,” he growls.

“Or maybe you're full of crap. Maybe you're afraid God will bring Cas back to life again and smite you and your candy-ass skirt. By the way, hi, I'm Dean,” he provokes further.

“I know who you are,” Raphael snaps “And now, thanks to him, I know where you are,” he mocks.

“You won't kill him,” Castiel states, “You wouldn't dare.”

“But I will take him to Michael,” he assures.

“Well then. Sounds terrifying. It does. But, uh, hate to tell you, I'm not going anywhere with you,” Dean informs Raphael and then grabs a beer.

“Surely you remember Zachariah giving you stomach cancer?” Raphael asks.

“Yeah, that was, that was hilarious,” Dean snarks.

“Well, he doesn't have anything close to my imagination,” Raphael promises.

Dean looks away from both overbearing angels and glances worriedly, taking a deep breath, “Yeah? I bet you didn't imagine one thing.”

“What?” Raphael snaps.

“We knew you were coming, you stupid son of a bitch,” he says as he lights his lighter and drops it. Holy oil ignites in a circle around Raphael. “Don't look at me, it was his idea,” he cries when Raphael glares menacingly at Dean.

Castiel was watching Raphael and turns his head to look at Dean who shrugs at his outburst. “Where is he?”

“God? Didn't you hear? He's dead, Castiel. Dead.” Raphael declares, “There's no other explanation. He's gone for good.”

“You're lying,” Castiel accuses.

“Am I?” he smirks. “Do you remember the twentieth century? Think the twenty-first is going any better? Do you think God would have let any of that happen if he were alive?”

“Oh yeah? Well then who invented the Chinese basket trick?” Dean asks.

“Careful. That's my father you're talking about, boy,” Raphael snarls.

“Yeah, who would be so proud to know his sons started the frigging apocalypse,” Dean replies sarcastically.

“Who ran off and disappeared. Who left no instructions and a world to run,” Raphael complains.

“Daddy ran away and disappeared. He didn't happen to work for the post office, did he?” Dean antagonizes.

“This is funny to you? You're living in a godless universe,” Raphael states.

“And? What, you and the other kids just decided to throw an apocalypse while he was gone?” Dean asks.

“We're tired,” Raphael replies wearily. “We just want it to be over. We just want...paradise.”

“So, what, God dies and makes you the boss and you decide you can do whatever you want?” Dean questions.

“Yes. And whatever we want, we get,” Raphael. The window burst in bringing the wind and rain with it.

“If God is dead, why have I returned? Who brought me back?” Castiel questions.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?” he asks.

“No,” Castiel states.

“Think about it. He needs all the rebellious angels he can find. You know it adds up,” Raphael says.

The wind and rain is swirling and pouring down on them. Castiel turns to Dean and says, “Let's go.”

“Castiel, I'm warning you. Do not leave me here. I will find you,” Raphael yells to be heard over the howling storm.

“Maybe one day,” he turns back and replies, “But today,” he says, “today, you're my little bitch.” Castiel turns back and walks out to the Impala.

Dean follows pausing, “Yeah, what he said.”

~*~

Dean drives back to the area the brothel was in to find the hotel Lizzie is staying at. Castiel is driving shotgun. “You okay?” he asks. Castiel remains silent. “Look, I'll be the first to tell you that this little crusade of yours is nuts, but I do know a little something about missing fathers,” he explains.

“What do you mean?” Castiel asks.

Dean sighs and watches the road while he drives and tries to explain, “I mean every time I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas, what do you believe?”

Castiel nods and looks out at the road ahead, “I believe he's out there.”

“Good. Go find him,” Dean says as he looks over; the shotgun seat is empty. “A goodbye every once in a while might be nice," he yells at the roof of the car.

He finds the Red Roof Inn, pulls in and parks the car. He had gotten out and went around to grab his bag when he sees Lizzie sitting in a black Mercedes with the guy she recognized at the brothel the night before. She is smiling and leans in and kisses him before she gets out of the car and waves as he pulls out and drives off. She is smiling and … [dressed](http://www1.bloomingdales.com/catalog/product/index.ognc?ID=505102&CategoryID=22011) like he’s never really seen her dressed before.

Lizzie was more mature now. He never really let himself notice until now. Gone were the scraped knees and dirt smudges of her youth; her rebellious nature that broke through after her grandfather's death. She was a strong, vibrant, sensual … woman. She wasn’t one of the quick fucks he engaged in back alleyways or bathroom stalls. She was … his … his Lizzie … and that guy … he was staring at her … thinking God knew what. Watching the swell of her breast, where the fabric caressed as she breathed in and out … or the curve of the shell of her ear. How many men had there been? How many knew the exact pitch of her gasp when she was nuzzled behind her ear … or that the back of her knees were sensitive enough to make her shudder from the lightest touch? Did she mewl for them when she came down from a climax nuzzling into the curve of their shoulder? Lizzie was opening her purse to find her key when Dean sneaks up behind her and growls, “What the hell was that?”

Lizzie spins in a guarded position until she realizes its Dean. She relaxes for a millisecond before she yells, “Where the hell have you been? Would it have hurt to check in?”

“What so you can get all cleaned up from your date?” he snarls.

She has her keys, closes her purse and stares at him. “You’re jealous? Of Brian? Seriously? Honestly D, like it’s any of your business anymore.”

He grabs her elbow, “Just answer the question,” he snaps.

“No,” she snaps back yanking her elbow back. “I can’t believe you! Passing judgment on me after what I’ve read about your libido,” she marches to her room, stops, opens her purse and goes through it again. She stamps her right heeled foot in agitation when she realizes she has the key in her hand. “And then yesterday with the prostitute? You have to audacity sit here and play the jealous boyfriend, where do you get off, D?” she shouts over her shoulder as she continues marching to her room to fight with the lock on her door.

“It didn’t mean anything,” he shouts back trying to catch up to her. As such, he was not prepared for her spinning around and punching him in the jaw, so hard his head snaps around, and he landed on the ground.

“Well it meant something to me!” she yells, tears threatening to spill she spins her back to him sniffling angrily fighting with the lock to get it open to her room. Dean jumps up, dusts his backside, and hands off.

“Lizzie,” he says quietly as his worn, rough fingers brush the smooth bare skin of her shoulder. She shivers slightly and turns back pushing his hand away for her. She slams a set of keys in his hand. His fingers close to keep her hand there.

“Your room is about two doors down. I’ll see you in the morning,” she says trying to pull her hand back. Dean does not release it.

“Lizzie,” he whispers. She looks up and sees the frank lust shining in his eyes.

“D?” she gasps pulling back against the door as he pulls her hand forward wrapping his other hand around the back of her neck. He slams his lips against hers drawing out a squeak and quiver before she limply wraps her arms around his neck. He licks and nibbles his way into her mouth and she sighs welcoming as she sags against the door that his hands are pressing against to hold them up. She reaches back and fumbles with the knob. He pushes through wrapping his arms around her middle and lifts her up. She wraps her legs around his hips and pulls herself up. He slams them into the wall next to the door with a grunt and Lizzie reaches out blindly to slam it shut. She reaches and pushes his jacket and over shirt off his shoulders. “Why are you wet?” she panted in his ear before she sucked against the sensitive spot under his jaw.

“Later,” he growls in response pulling her hair back to place sucking kisses along her neck causing her to mewl. “Fuck I missed you baby,” he pants. She leans against the wall, tugs his shirt out of his jeans and pulls it off. Scratching at his belt buckle, she finally gets it open and carefully pulls him out, stroking him hard while she sucks on his tongue. He stretches his hands flat against the wall using his body to hold her there while he growls, groans and whimpers in response. Lizzie pulls back sucking on his bottom lip as she reaches down and moves her thong to the side and positions him at her entrance. “Jesus! Thong underwear?” he gasps.

She shrugged, “I don’t like seams when I dress nice,” she explains. Her warm tightness stretches and grips him. Dean snaps and plunges forward noticing too late her body tensing. There was no missing her startled yelp and panting request to give her a minute. Tears slip from her clenched eyes.

“Mouse?” Dean asks starting to panic.

“Just, just give me a minute D. It’s been … awhile,” He moves his hands around to hold her up and relieve some of the pressure.

“How long has it been?” he asks brushing her tears with his thumb kissing her nose. She just stares up at him not saying anything. She scrunches her nose and bites her lip. Reality dawns on him when he whispers, “Mouse?” he questions and he continues louder, “We’re stopping,” he tries to pull out.

“Like hell you are,” she snaps, tightening her thighs and hooking her heeled feet tighter around his back.

“I don’t want to hurt you Mouse,” he grunts trying not to go cross-eyed, _Fuck that's good_.

“Little late now,” she grounds out then winces at his expression. “It’s better now,” she says grinding her hips against him, drawing a loud groan from him, “Oh God!” she mutters. They quickly find their rhythm.

“Lizzie, can’t … too much … shit! Never like this,” Dean babbles.

“D! D! Oh God! Yes, Yes!” she yells as she comes to Dean’s panted “oh, oh, oh …. Lizzie!”

They sag against the wall panting, sweaty and sated. Dean buries his face in the crux of Lizzie’s shoulder while she pets his hair and murmurs softly. He carefully walks them over to the bed and lays her down. She winces when he pulls out as gently as he can. He sheepishly kicks off his jeans and pulls up his boxers from where they were around his knees. He walks to the bathroom finds a small hand towel, wets it and takes a dry one, returning to kneel between her spread legs, removes her panties and gently wipes away the blood and drying semen.

Lizzie pushes his hands away. “D you don’t have to,” she insists nervously.

“Yeah, I do,” he mutters. “Please," he stares up at her, "just let me,” he asks. He looks so beaten and miserable she does not have the heart to argue.

She sits up with him still between her legs, brushes his sweaty, curling hair from his forehead and kisses him gently. “Don’t you dare regret this because I don’t. I missed you and yes it was a little rough, but true passion is jagged and edgy.”

“I got jealous,” he mutters pushing her dress up and off to reveal her naked body.

“Yes you did,” she replies, “but you didn’t need to be. You thought he was an ex, didn’t you?” she asks. He nods in response. “Brian was Johnny’s boyfriend in college,” she explains and Dean blushes in response. “I had no intention of sleeping with him,” she continues.

“Then why did you dress like this. I mean … you look …,” Dean tries to explain.

“What?” she asks fidgeting.

“Hot,” Dean tries but fails miserably, “No, well yeah, but you just look different. You’re all grown up and …” he thumbs a circle in her inner thigh which makes her shiver, “and I missed it,” he says quietly. He notices the scars on her lower belly. He gently traces his fingers over them and looks up at her.

She nervously tries to cover her stomach and push his hands away, blushing and biting her bottom lip, “There were complications when I had Mikey,” she explains.

“What kind of complications,” he asks even though he did not think he wanted to know.

“The kind where me and Mikey almost died,” she says nervously sticking up her chin at his gulped response. He turns pale and then green again. “I, I can’t have any more children D,” she tells him.

He leans forward, buries his face in her warm, scarred stomach and wraps his arms around her. He kisses each of them softly as they both ignore the warm tear that falls against her skin.

~*~

* * *

[[TW1]]($-12)Gaelic for “whore”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the actual dialog during Season 5 has been used, transcripts of which can be found at Supernatural Wiki. I transcribe verbatim for a living and you guys are awesome for doing this. I thought I was going to have to do it and it turned out to be a huge timesaver.

~*~

Early the next morning, the sun shines through the gaping drapes and fall across Dean's protective form wrapped around Lizzie's in sleep. Lizzie mumbles in her sleep and twitches anxiously.

> Thunder crashes, lightning flashes, and Dean watches an older, tired version of himself as he is lying on the ground. His neck is held down by someone wearing a white shoe. The older Dean opens his eyes and sees Dean. The person shifts his weight and the older Dean's neck audibly breaks. Dean sees Sam dressed in a white suit turns around and sees Dean.
> 
> "Oh, Hello Dean," Lucifer says.

Lizzie wakes with a startled gasp. She turns and sees Dean next to her. She smiles softly, untangles herself from him, grabbing some clothes, and hastily gets into the bathroom. When she is presentable, she whispers, "Castiel? I need your help."

She yelps when he appears instantly. "Fiola?" he questions with concern.

Not wasting any time, she explains the vision she had. "Dean needs to know, but I don’t know how to … can I try something?" Castiel nods and she reaches for and grabs his hands. She closes her eyes, Castiel jerks, and his eyes widen. She lets go of his hands and asks, "Did it work?"

Castiel nods in a daze, "This is what you saw?"

She wrings her hands together, "Yes, there is more …" she tells him walking over to Dean. She leans over his side and kisses his check, "D? Time to get up," she tells him.

He harrumphs, snakes his arm around her waist, and pulls her over his side causing her to squeak. She lands in the same spot she was when she woke up, "Mornin' Mouse …" he murmurs nuzzling her neck and tightens his arm around her.

Lizzie blushes and pokes his bare arm, "D … we're not alone," she tries to explain. "Seriously, Castiel's here …" she insists.

Dean opens an eyeball and grunts, "Cas?"

"Yes Dean," Castiel replies.

"What the fuck have I told you about personal space?" he growls rolling over and away from Lizzie to grab his jeans off the floor and shimmy into the under the sheet that is covering his nakedness.

"But I am not in your personal space Dean," Castiel assures him with a tilt of his head in confusion.

"Don’t get mad at him, D. I called him," Lizzie says getting out of her side of the bed.

"Why?" Dean growls.

Lizzie scowls, "You are such a bitch before your coffee. I had a vision. I asked him here to help me with it. I – I think you need to see it, but I need him to tone it down, otherwise, I think your brain will fry …"

Dean runs a hand through his disheveled hair and scratches his morning stubble, "Like a Vulcan mind meld or somethin'?"

She bites her lip and scrunches her nose, "Kinda … Look, here …" she says walking around them and pulling out the chair from the dinette set and pushes him down on the chair. He grunts in response. Lizzie moves Castiel over to stand next to Dean on his left and she stands on his right. She puts Castiel's right hand on Dean's bare shoulder and she grabs hold of the back of Dean's chair and asks, "Ready?" when she takes ahold of Castiel's other hand. Dean stiffens and his eyes close.

> A sign on the fence reads:
> 
> CROATOAN VIRUS HOT ZONE
> 
> NO ENTRY
> 
> BY ORDER OF ACTING REGIONAL COMMAND
> 
> AUGUST 1, 2014 KANSAS CITY

Dean twitches in response.

> Dean is driving. There is no cell service and only static on the radio, "That's never a good sign."
> 
> "Croatoan pandemic reaches Australia." Zachariah startles Dean as he reads from a newspaper from where he is sitting in the shotgun seat.
> 
> Dean sneers, "I thought I smelled your stink on this Back to the Future crap."
> 
> "President Palin defends bombing of Houston." Certainly a buyer's market in real estate. Let's see what's happening in sports. That's right—no more sports. Congress revoked the right to group assembly. What's left of Congress, that is. Hardly a quorum, if you ask me," Zachariah offers.
> 
> "How did you find me?" Dean demands.
> 
> "Afraid we had to tap some unorthodox resources of late—human informants. We've been making inspirational visits to the fringier Christian groups. They've been given your image, told to keep an eye out," Zachariah explains.
> 
> "The Bible freak outside the motel," Dean realizes, "he, what, dropped a dime on me?" Dean questions with a sneer.
> 
> "Onward, Christian soldiers," Zachariah smirks.
> 
> "Okay, well, good, great. You have had your jollies. Now send me back, you son of a bitch," Dean threatens.
> 
> "Oh, you'll get back," Zachariah assures, "all in good time. We want you to marinate a bit."
> 
> "Marinate?" Dean asks.
> 
> "Three days, Dean. Three days to see where this course of action takes you," he explains.
> 
> "What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asks in confusion.
> 
> "It means that your choices have consequences. This is what happens to the world if you continue to say "no" to Michael. Have a little look-see," he clarifies before he vanishes.

Dean shudders in response and squeezes Castiel's hand.

> Dean approaches a sign that reads:
> 
> CAMP CHITAQUA
> 
> There are men with guns just inside the fence, patrolling. Dean is careful to stay out of sight. He catches sight of the Impala, smashed up and rusted. "Oh, baby, no," he murmurs approaching the Impala for a better look at the damage, peering inside the driver's side door. "What'd they do to you?" Dean hears something and barely turns to look when he is knocked out by another Dean wearing a military-issue green jacket instead of Dean's blue shirt.

Dean's head snaps with the force of the punch. A single tear rolls down his cheek on seeing the outcome of his precious Impala.

> Castiel is sitting in a circle with several women, "So, in this way. We're each a fragment of total perception—just, uh, one compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind. Now, the key to this total, shared perception—it's, um, it's surprisingly physical." Castiel notices Dean standing near the doorway and turns back to his audience, "Oh. Excuse me, ladies. I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a minute. Why not go get washed up for the orgy?" Dean's eyes bug out and his mouth drops open.
> 
> The women leave and Castiel murmurs to them as they walk by, "You're all so beautiful." He stands and stretches his back, grunting.
> 
> Dean questions incredulously, "What are you, a hippie?"
> 
> "I thought you'd gotten over trying to label me," Castiel sighs.
> 
> "Cas, we got to talk," Dean rushes forward.
> 
> "Whoa. Strange," Castiel looks at Dean and staggers back.
> 
> "What?" Dean asks unsure.
> 
> "You...are not you. Not now you, anyway," he tries to clarify with a shake of his head.
> 
> "No! Yeah. Yes, exactly," he brightens. Someone finally was getting it.
> 
> "What year are you from?" Castiel asks with a stern frown.
> 
> "2009," Dean answers desperate for some answers.
> 
> "Who did this to you? Is it Zachariah?" he questions trying to clear his head and understand the situation. Dean replies that yes he was. Castiel rubs his chin in thought, "Interesting."
> 
> Clearly frustrated, "Oh, yeah, it's friggin' fascinating. Now. Why don't you strap on your angel wings and fly me back to my page on the calendar?"
> 
> "I wish I could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I'm sorry, no dice," Castiel replies.
> 
> "What, are you stoned?" Dean asks incredulously.
> 
> "Uh, generally, yeah," he snickers.
> 
> "What happened to you?" Dean questions taking in Castiel's full appearance.
> 
> "Life," Castiel grins with a dazed sadness.

Castiel blushes slight and barely flinches as the scene unfolds.

> Dean gets in one of the vehicles and drives off riding shotgun with Castiel who takes some pills, holds out the bottle to Dean, and speaks around the pills in his mouth, "You want some?"
> 
> "Amphetamines?" Dean questions.
> 
> Castiel nods and swallows, "It's the perfect antidote to that absinthe," he explains.
> 
> "Mmm," Dean nods, "Don't get me wrong, Cas. I, uh. I'm happy that the stick is out of your ass, but—what's going on—w-with the drugs, the orgies, and the love-guru crap?" Castiel laughs in response. "What's so funny?" Dean demands.
> 
> "Dean, I'm not an angel anymore," Castiel clarifies.
> 
> "What?" Dean questions in shock.
> 
> "Yeah, I went mortal," Castiel explains.
> 
> "What do you mean? How?" Dean asks still confused.
> 
> "I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving. But when they bailed, my mojo just kind of— psshhew!—drained away. And now, you know, I'm practically human. I mean, Dean, I'm all but useless. Last year, broke my foot, laid up for two months," Castiel says.
> 
> "Wow," Dean says in stunned disbelief.
> 
> "Yeah," Castiel agrees staring out at the road.
> 
> "So, you're human. Well, welcome to the club," Dean tries to be chipper.
> 
> "Thanks. Except I used to belong to a much better club. And now I'm powerless. I'm hapless, I'm hopeless. I mean, why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence, right? It's the end, baby. That's what decadence is for. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then that's, that's just how I roll," Castiel finishes bitterly as he jams the truck into the next gear.

Dean and Castiel both twitch as the desolate image unfolds showing the fall of Castiel.

> Thunder crashes, lightning flashes, and Dean watches an older, tired version of himself as he is lying on the ground. His neck is held down by someone wearing a white shoe. The older Dean opens his eyes and sees Dean. The person shifts his weight and the older Dean's neck audibly breaks. Dean sees Sam dressed in a white suit turns around and sees Dean.
> 
> "Oh, Hello Dean," Lucifer says.

Dean jerks up and away from Lizzie and Castiel. The chair skids across the floor and falls behind him. His eyes are red rimmed and he is panting. He stares back and forth between the two of them. Lizzie reaches for him but he steps back. He grabs his shirt and jacket and pulls on his boots on his way out the door. The Impala roars to life and he skids out of the driveway.

They both stare at the closed door. "Should we go after him?" Castiel asks.

"No," Lizzie says. Give him some time. He'll be back." Lizzie bites her lip and looks up at Castiel out of the corner of her eye. "So … did you embrace the higher moral ethics of the human race or what?" Castiel blushes and rubs the back of his neck sneaking a glance in Lizzie's direction. He was met with her knowing smirk, "Orgies? Really Castiel, I'm shocked." He promptly vanishes.

She sighs heavily and starts to clean up the room. She texts Dean to check on him. He replies that he is fine and that he found a case to work on. _And denial is not only a river in Egypt_ , Lizzie sighs mentally to herself. _Men!_

~*~

The doctor pulls the draw out of the freezer with a corpse on it. It looks like a dead eighty-year-old. The doctor explains as she looks down at her chart, “Meet Mr. Xavier. Date of birth, April third, nineteen eighty-four. She exchanges a glance with Dean. “I know. I ran the DNA twice. That's definitely him,” she confirmed.

“Well, he wasn't big on the sunscreen, huh?” Dean snorted and coughed in recovery, cleared his throat and continued, “So, what's your theory?”

“All I know is, decedent's male, twenty-five years old and he died of old age,” she explained in confusion. She walks away and Dean turns to leave the morgue hitting speed dial on his phone, “ You were right about this one. It's definitely a job,” he says to Bobby.

“Thought so. Any other stiffs in town?” Bobby replies.

“Just the one body,” Dean says.

“Anything else?” Bobby asks gruffly.

“Couple missing persons, but usual for a town this size,” Dean replies.

“Well, check 'em out,” he snaps.

“You think they're connected?” Dean asked.

“Call it a hunch,” he says.

“You got it. And, by the way, how you doing?” Dean asks.

“Doing?” Bobby snaps.

“Yeah. You know, just...in general?” Dean asks uncomfortably.

“Oh, you mean my legs. Well, I'm just weepin' in my Haagen-Dazs. Idjit,” Bobby snarls and hangs up.

~*~

Dean is looking at a framed photo of an old man, Cliff Whitlow, as he sits in an armchair with Mrs. Whitlow who is sitting on the sofa, “This is the most recent,” she explains. It is a photo of Cliff as a golf tournament champion, Miami Palms June 2009. He is holding a golf club and a trophy. A USMC tattoo is clearly visible on his right arm.

“How long has he been missing?” Dean asks.

“Oh, I knew right away when he didn't come home Tuesday night,” Mrs. Whitlow explains.

“Is there someplace he likes to go after work, maybe? A favorite bar?” Dean asks further.

Mrs. Whitlow laughs. “No. Tuesdays, he always works a bit late, but he always comes straight home.”

“May I use your facilities, ma'am?” Dean asks handing her back the photo. She indicates where he needs to go. Dean hunts through and finds Cliff’s office. He enters, looking back over his shoulder. He scoops a pile of papers off the desk. He rifles the rest of the desk and the pockets of Cliff's coat and pulls out a receipt and looks at it. It is for Madame Liu's Golden Palace and totals over $250. “Working late' my ass.”

~*~

At Madame Liu’s, Dean walks along the corridor. Cliff was consistent with his visits to Madame Liu’s. He books the same room every Tuesday. He stops outside room 44. He pulls out his lock pick kit and selects two. He looks back and forth before he starts. Inside the room, a man starts shouting, “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh! Oh, God!” Dean looks back and forth again before he kicks the door open. The man in question is apparently naked, in bed with a woman who is barely dressed. “Hey! What the …” he yells. Another woman comes out from under the covers.

“Oh God,” Dean cringes, “ Sorry. Uh, got the wrong room,” he apologizes as both women run and hover in the corner.

“Close the door!” the man yells.

Dean is backing out and closing the door when he notices the man has a USMC tattoo that looks exactly like Cliff Whitlow’s. “Nice tat,” he says, “Do you happen to know anybody named Cliff Whitlow?”

The man shakes his head and replies, “Never heard of him.”

Dean walks over and retrieves the man’s pants, “Well, that's weird,” he says as he pulls an ID out of the wallet that was apparently in the MAN's pants. “'Cause you're carrying his wallet,” he tells him as he goes over to the bed and yanks up the covers to look underneath. “Huh,” he drops the sheets, “and your wife told us about your, uh, birthmark there. That's nice. Well, you look great. Cliff. Did you get some work done?”

Cliff shakes his head and sighs, “Could you give us some privacy?” he asks the two women. Dean winks at them, and then goes back to glaring at Cliff. Cliff has put on a robe now, and he hands one of the women some money and they leave. He closes the door behind them. He turns and faces Dean and cries, “Please don't tell my wife.”

“Slow down,” Dean tries to calm him down to try and get him to explain.

“I'm begging you. As far as she knows, I'm dead. For the love of God, let's keep it that way,” he exclaims frantically.

“How can you possibly be Cliff Whitlow?” Dean asks.

Cliff grows still and swallows loudly, “I can't tell you.”

“Well, either you tell me or I tell the missus,” Dean states.

“Okay! Okay! It was a game,” he explained. “Poker. High stakes. Instead of cash, you play for years.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Dean asks.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy. Guy comes up to me at a bar, invites me to play. Gives me twenty-five of these weirdo poker chips, right? Chants some mumbo jumbo over them, says now they're twenty-five years. I'm laughing, but then I come out up. And look at me,” Cliff exclaims.

“What was he chanting?” Dean asks.

Cliff laughs, “How should I know? All I know is, my bad hip's good, I threw away my glasses. One of those ladies was here for free! Man's some kind of miracle worker.”

“What does this miracle worker look like?” Dean asks.

“Just a guy, maybe thirty-five, brown hair. Irish accent. His name was Patrick,” Cliff explains.

“All right, all right,” Dean snaps. “Where's this game at?”

“He said he likes to keep moving. Never stays in one bar long. And he finds you,” Cliff tells him.

“Thanks Cliff,” Dean says as he heads for the door. When he’s outside, he calls Bobby.

“It sounds crazy, right?” he says into the receiver.

“No. There's lore on it. Goes back centuries. Traveling card player pops into town. You beat him; you get your best years back. 'Course, most folks lose,” Bobby explains.

“Well, that would explain the crunchy corpse,” Dean replies.

Bobby ignores his comment, “Supposedly, this player's a hell of a card shark. Got a lot of years in the bank. You find the bar he's working in yet?”

“There are a lot of dives in this town,” Dean explains

“Well, why you still talking to me?” Bobby snarks and hangs up.

~*~

Later that night, Dean is standing outside another dive bar and calls Lizzie, “Did you find anything?” she asks him.

“Yeah, a whole bunch of squat, Dean complains. “You?”

She sighs heavily into the phone, “No, not a thing.”

“All right. Well, you come up dry, circle back to the motel in two. Your turn to grab dinner,” he says, “and don’t try and sneak another veggie platter in again. That’s shit’s gross,” he grimaces and hangs up to Lizzie’s giggles. He walks in and sits down at the bar, “Can I get a beer?”

“Yep,” the bartender says as he reaches for a beer bottle.

“You wouldn't happen to know of a poker game going on in back, would you?” Dean asks.

The bartender opens the bottle and passes it to Dean, “It's a bar, not a casino, buddy,” he replies.

Dean digs into his pocket, “My friend Ben told me you'd know.”

“Don't know any Ben,” the bartender replies.

“Sure you do. You know, balding, smart-ass, real ladies' man?” Dean says.

The bartender leans forward, and stabs his finger in Dean’s chest, “Listen, pal, I told you, I don't know any Ben. I don't know nothing about a game.”

“You sure? 'Cause, uh...” Dean explains as he slides a hundred-dollar bill, with its picture of Ben Franklin, across the bar. “He sure seems to know you.”

The bartender glances down, then up, and takes the bill, “'Round back. Take the elevator down.” Something clatters and Bobby rolls out of what is presumably the elevator.

“Bobby? What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asks in confusion.

“Planting daisies. What's it look like? Came in on the case,” he snaps.

“And you beat me here?” Dean asks unbelieving.

“Well, brains trumps legs, apparently,” Bobby grouses as he rolls past Dean with Dean following.

“So, you found the game?” Dean asks.

“Yep,” Bobby replies.

“Did you stop it?” Dean asks getting frustrated. Bobby does not answer him. “Bobby?”

Bobby stops and turns around, looking sheepish, “Not exactly.”

"What did you do?” Dean asks nervously.

“I played, okay?” Bobby explains.

“And?” Dean snaps.

“I lost,” Bobby snaps back.

“Are you kidding me? You played some … some he-witch?” Dean snarls.

“Don't you take that tone with me,” Bobby demands.

“You idiot!” Dean yells in response.

“They're my years! I can do what I want!” Bobby yells petulantly.

“How many did you lose?” Dean asks.

“Twenty-five,” he states as he ages before Dean’s eyes.

“We're not done,” Dean states pointing his finger at Bobby before he turns and heads to the elevator.

Inside, an older man and a young woman sit at the bar. Another mans stands next to them, chewing on a toothpick. He speaks with an Irish accent, Patrick.

The older man asks Patrick, “So, you're saying that you're a mind reader?”

“Ah, come on,” he scoffs, “No such thing. But I can read people. Take your lovely companion here,” pointing to the woman.

The older man and the younger woman smile at each other, “Lia,” she offers.

”I'd say, judging from her exquisite posture, she used to be a dancer,” Lia chuckles, indicating to the older man that Patrick is right on the money.

“Not much of a drinker. Very independent. Looking for adventure,” he continues.

Dean comes up behind Patrick and grabs him by the arm, “Hey, man. Excuse me. Can I borrow you for a sec?” Dean adjusts his jacket to show Patrick the handle of his gun.

Patrick glances down at it, then up at Dean, “Oh, yeah. Of course. Great. Good to see you.” Dean grins, nodding, and glances at the older man and Lia. Dean heads for a table across the room. Patrick watches Dean walk off, “Would you two please excuse me?” and follows him to Dean’s table.

“Sorry to cut you short with Mr. and Mrs. Easy Marks over there,” Dean apologizes.

“Oh, no big,” Patrick waves it off and holds up a gold wristwatch, “Wasn't a total loss,” he explains. Under the table, Dean pulls out his gun, “Look, I don't know what it is you think I did to your wife or girlfriend,” Dean frowns in confusion, so Patrick keeps fishing, “…mother or sister, but, uh, I just want you to know, my feelings were real.”

“That ain't my problem, man-witch. You owe my friend some years,” he sneers.

“Oh, that's what this is. I'm sorry. He lost. Them's the breaks,” Patrick mocks.

“Well, then un-lose him,” Dean threatens as he cocks the gun.

Patrick flicks a glance down, “Oh, go ahead and shoot me, if it makes you feel better. Besides, I could use a good...you know...tickle. You want years? Great. Play me for 'em.”

“Fine,” Dean snaps.

Bobby has come up to the table by now, “Dean, no!”

“They're my years. I can do what I want,” Dean reiterates Bobby’s answer to him.

Bobby coughs and Patrick holds up a cough drop, “Lozenge?” Bobby wheezes in response. “What? It's barely linty. Okay, well, suit yourself. just trying to help.”

“All right, all right,” Dean replies impatiently. “Come on. Let's do this.”

“You understand the terms?” Patrick asks as he sets a red case on the table. He opens it, chewing on a toothpick. It contains eight stacks of poker chips. He pulls out a stack of red chips. He takes the toothpick out of his mouth. “Buy-in's twenty-five years,” he says as he closes the box.

“Make it fifty,” Dean demands. Bobby glances at Dean.

Patrick takes the toothpick back out of his mouth, “I like the cut of your jib,” he says. Dean smirks in response and Patrick gives him another stack of red chips and holds his hand over them. “Lannraich gu dealrach a-nis,” light flicks along both stacks. Patrick goes back to chewing his toothpick. Dean takes them and counts the chips in one stack.

“Twenty-five. That's twenty-five years. They go to him,” Dean says as he pushes the chips into the middle of the table, “And he's cashing out.”

“Dean!” Bobby yells.

“Bobby,” Dean answers.

“You sure?” Patrick asks.

“Yes.” Dean replies.

Patrick nods and holds his hand over the chips, “Las suas agus cuir ás an teine. Mar sin bitheadh.” The chips catch fire, burn to ash and blow away. Bobby is back to normal. “That's twenty-five years you just pissed away. Better be sure you can win them back.”

Dean taps his remaining chips, “Shuffle up and deal.”

Patrick laughs, “This is gonna be fun.”

~*~

Lizzie opens the door and comes in, carrying bags of takeout and some drinks. She puts it on the table, “Hey, Dean? You find anything?”

An old man responds, “Uh, you might say.”

Lizzie starts and draws a gun out from under her jacket aiming it at an old man in a bathrobe, “Who the hell are you!” she yells in a panic. He looks very familiar so she relaxes slightly but still aims her gun at him.

“Relax. It’s me,” the old man says.

She cocking her head sideways and wrinkling her nose as she recognizes him, “Dean?”

“Hey Mouse,” he waves pitifully as he walks over the food and picks up his bacon cheeseburger.

Lizzie stares at him, “Let me guess, you found the game?” Dean nods while he devours his food, “I thought you said you were good at poker?”

“Shuddup. I’m good at poker,” he mumbled around his food.

“You just couldn’t wait for backup could,” she mutters stomping off to the bathroom to freshen up. “You reek of mojo … old mojo. What were you thinking? Going up unprepared against an obviously powerful warlock,” she chastens.

Dean scowls in response. The door thuds open and Bobby rolls in. The door closes behind him. “I see you met John McCain there.”

“Bobby!” Lizzie cries. She bends down and hugs him causing him to grumble unintelligibly. “What are you doing here?” She turns to Dean, “Why is he here?”

“Bobby's an idiot. That's why he’s here,” Dean grumbles as he stabs at his fries.

“Hey, nobody asked you to play,” Bobby gripes.

“Right. I should have just let you die,” Dean snaps.

“And for damn sure, nobody asked you to lose!” Bobby yells.

Lizzie grins at the two of them and giggles, “It's like Grumpy Old Men.”

Dean and Bobby turn to her and snap in unison, “Shut up Lizzie!”

She just scowls at the two of them, “Well, what the hell were you thinking? He's a witch. He's probably been playing poker since guys wore tights.”

“You just don't get it,” Bobby complains.

“Yeah, I get it, Bobby,” Dean snaps, “You saw a chance to turn the hands of the clock back and get out of that damn chair. Pretty tempting. I can imagine.

“No, you can't,” Bobby says.

“You got me,” Dean says, “I’ve never been paralyzed. But I’ll tell you something … I've been to hell, and there's an archangel wanting me to drop the soap. Look at me! My junk's rustier than yours! You hear me bellyaching? Huh?”

Lizzie cocks her head to the side and listens, “Uh, actually, yeah. I think you are.”

“Oh!” Dean exclaims sitting down, still holding his burger. “I'm having a heart attack.”

Lizzie bites her lip and Bobby snaps, “No, you're not.”

“Well then what is it?” Dean complains.

“Acid reflux,” he snaps.

Lizzie tries not to laugh as she explains to Dean, “D, guys your age can't digest certain foods. You're gonna need to put down that cheeseburger," Dean sighs and puts down the burger.

Bobby grumbles, “So, you want to keep emoting, or you want to talk about solving this little issue of yours? It's got to be about the chips.”

“I slid 'em across,” Dean explains, “and Patrick did his little witchy number, and you prettied up in a hurry.”

Lizzie thinks for a few minutes, “so the chips were cast,” she says as she sits down and pulls out her salad and picks at it still thinking, “You remember what he chanted, Bobby?

“Yep … every word,” he nods.

“Alright, then let's find out where he stashes his chips,” she says. “What do you think,” she asks crunching on a cucumber.

Bobby winces and turns to leave, “I think Dean ought to put some clothes on.” Lizzie delicately scrunches her nose and agrees silently. "I'm going to get with the transcribing. You see what you can do with Romeo over there." Lizzie nods offhanded as she goes and opens the door to see him out.

When she comes back, she bends down to pick something up off the floor and hears a muffled grunt come from the direction of the bathroom. She looks back still bent over, "D? Are you alright?"

Dean is standing in the doorway to the bathroom clutching the doorframe. He is pale and shaking slightly. "Dean? What the hell? She rushes over to him."

"Nothin' happened …" he mumbles.

"With what baby?" she questions in concern rubbing his neck.

"You bent over and nothin' … happened …" he explains staring at his crotch. "You bendin' over in jeans at least gets a twitch, but nothin'." He closes his eyes and shakes his head, "Not even the time you had on your school uniform with the black bra … Jesus, that was the center of my jerk off fantasies for years," he mumbles making Lizzie blush.

"Oh honey, these things … well, they happen …" she cringes "… when you get older. We'll get this worked out," she reassures him enthusiastically, or tries to.

He just holds his hand up and sighs in defeat, "Don’t. Just …. Don’t …" he mumbles as he shuffles wearily into the bathroom and closes the door.

~*~

Bobby, Lizzie and Dean sit in Bobby’s van and track Patrick throughout the day and when he leaves the last building he visits, they get out of the van and head into the lobby. Dean holds the door open while Lizzie rolls Bobby inside. Bobby takes over until he gets to the elevator and reads the sign, "ELEVATOR OUT OF ORDER SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE". He sighs, “Well, I’m out.”

Lizzie jogs up a flight of stairs with no difficulty. Dean walks up one step at a time. She stops on the landing. “D?” she asks and when he looks up she points to a sign with a large number two. He sighs and she continues up the stairs. Dean glares at the sign, then, determinedly follows. Lizzie leaves the stairwell and Dean follows breathing hard. She sorts through her lock pick set in front of room 3701.

“You remember how to do this,” Dean asks.

She says over her shoulder, “It’s just like ridin’ a bike, besides I learned from the best,” she winks and finishes and opens the door when the door clicks open. Dean looks down, admires her backside in jeans, then looks down at his crotch, and frowns with a heavy sigh. He follows Lizzie in and they search the place. Dean opens an armoire, knocks on the back, moves things, and opens the false back. There's a safe.

“Lizzie?” he says and she walks over. “Dime-store model. Piece of cake,” he mutters as he turns the dial, squinting and leaning in and out; the numbers are too blurred for him to read.

Lizzie tries not to snort, “Why don’t I try?” she suggests as she pats his butt. Dean scowls in response but moves over, and she quickly opens it. There are quite a few poker chips in the safe.

“I could have done that,” Dean gripes.

“I know you could have sweetie, but we’re on a time crunch,” she says handing him handfuls of coins.

Lia walks in and catches them, “What are you doing?” Lizzie and Dean turn around and Lia is standing there, wearing a large silver locket.

“Aren't you the chick from the bar?” Dean asks.

“I'm a lot more than that,” Lia says as she throws up a hand, clenches a fist, and twists causing Dean to double over.

“Dean!” Lizzie screams and throws her hand out. Lia slams against the back wall immobile.

Patrick runs in and sees Lia. He turns to Lizzie and his eyes widen, “Release her,” he commands.

“Tell her to release Dean,” Lizzie snaps.

“Lia, sweetheart. It's all right. Let him go,” she looks nervously between Patrick and Lizzie but complies and Dean starts to get back up and Lia slides down the wall unharmed. Patrick steps forward, “You want the chips? Take 'em. They're just chips, Einsteins. It's showmanship. This may come as a shock, but the magic does not lie in a pile of crappy plywood or in any phony abracadabra. It's in the nine-hundred-year-old witch. You want your years? Score 'em the old-fashioned way. Texas hold 'em.” Patrick chews on his toothpick.

“Fine. Let's do it,” Dean snaps.

“D …” Lizzie warns and he ignores her.

Patrick pulls a card out of a pocket, the eight of hearts. “What card am I holding up?” he asks. Dean squints at it but does not answer. “That's what I thought. If your eyesight's that bad, what about your memory? I'm not a murderer. You, on the other hand...” he leers at Lizzie.

“No!” Dean snaps.

“Dean,” Lizzie says.

“What, not much of a player?” Patrick asks, “Okay, well, happy trails, Dean. Enjoy the twilight of your life. Should have taken better care of that ticker, though” he states as he opens the door, “You're free to go,” he says and they both walk out the door, “Oh and be sure to let Bobby know I’m thinking of him,” he says and claps three times, and closes the door.

They get downstairs and find Bobby squirming in his chair waiting for them scratching his leg. Lizzie stops, stares at Bobby and then looks back up the stairs as Dean snarks, “Dude!” to Bobby. Lizzie blushes when she looks back at them. “Oh shit!” Dean starts laughing.

“What’re you laughin at you idjit,” Bobby snaps.

“I think the he-witch gave you the clap.”

~*~

Bobby, Dean and Lizzie head up towards the motel. It is on an incline and neither Dean nor Lizzie have trouble, but she stops and goes back to help Bobby. “I don’t need any help,” he snaps at her.

“Deal with it,” she snaps back and pushes him up to meet Dean who walks alongside.

“You know, I still think I could play,” Lizzie says.

At the top of the incline, Bobby takes over rolling himself. Dean stops walking, so do Lizzie and Bobby.

“No, no, no. I'm really good and Bobby, he's way better. We both lost, so no,” Dean says.

“Exactly,” Bobby adds.

“And I don’t recall ever needing your permission to do anything Dean Michael,” Lizzie snaps.

“Lizzie,” Dean sighs, “when you get to be our age …”

“You’re two years older than me Dean, try again …” Lizzie reminds him.

“Lizzie,” Bobby tried. “it’s not all about knowing the game, it's about playing the other guy. All I'm saying is, I played this guy. I know his style. I can take him.”

“No, Bobby. You don't have enough years in the bank,” Dean reminds him, you'll die if you lose, Bobby.”

“So what if I do, huh? What exactly am I living for, huh? The damn apocalypse?” Bobby snaps, “Watching men die bloody while I sit in this chair, can't take a step to help 'em?”

“Bobby …” Dean starts.

“No, no. It's the facts. I'm old...and broke down...and I can't...” he takes a moment to breathe, “I ain't a hunter no more. I'm useless. And if I wasn't such a coward, I'd have stuck a gun in my mouth the day I got home from the hospital.”

Dean and Lizzie both watched Bobby. She sniffles quietly and says, “You are not playing again. I'm not letting you do that. There's another way out of this. There's got to be. And I'm gonna find it.”

~*~

Dean and Bobby return to the hotel. Dean opens the door so Bobby can roll in. Bobby looks up and stops abruptly.

Lia is sitting on the bed. She holds up a piece of paper. “Take it. It'll help you.”

Bobby rolls closer and takes it, “What is this?”

“The most powerful reversal spell you've ever laid your eyes on,” Lia explains.

“And it reverses what?” Dean asks.

“Patrick's work—all of it,” she say.

“You,” Dean clears his throat, “you saying I could be normal again?”

“You and everyone else he's ever played,” Lia says before she corrects herself. “Who's still alive, that is.”

“Why the hell should we trust you?” Dean demands.

“Trust me, don't trust me. I don't care. The spell is real,” she says as she gets up and heads for the door.

“If it zaps everyone,” Bobby asks, “don't that include your man?”

“And me, too,” she says quietly. “I look good for my age.”

“Lady, this don't add up for squat. Why would you want that?” Bobby asks her.

“I have my reasons,” she tells him. She looks at her silver locket and adds before she leave, “Do it quick. We leave town tomorrow.”

~*~

Patrick chews on a toothpick. There's a glass of whiskey in front of him. On the table are five cards in a row, the eight of spades, five and four of clubs, king of diamonds, and jack of hearts, and a pile of poker chips, about three dozen. His opponent, an old man named Hesh, clinks his poker chips against each other (he has at most ten), looking at his two facedown cards. Patrick looks at his own cards: the kings of hearts and spades, for three of a kind. Hesh has the nines of clubs and diamonds for one pair. Hesh throws a few chips on the pile, “Bet,” he says.

Patrick takes out his toothpick, “I sense you've got me by the jewels on this one, Hesh. I fold.” Hesh collects his chips. “What are you up, like thirteen years there, Hesh? What do you say we call it a day?”

Hesh chuckles, “Thanks, Patrick.”

Patrick looks up and sees Lizzie watching them. “Hesh here is gonna live to see his granddaughter's bat mitzvah. Isn't that right, Hesh?”

Hesh watches the exchange and turns back, “Thanks again, Patrick.”

“Shalom, my friend. Shalom,” Patrick salutes. Hesh nods, gets up and leaves. Patrick shuffles the cards.

“That was nice of you,” Lizzie states.

Patrick smirks, “I'm a nice guy. What can I do you for?”

He keeps shuffling and Lizzie sits down, “I would like you to deal me in,” she states.

~*~

Bobby sits at the foot of a grave while Dean digs. “Jawbone of a murderer. Great!” Dean mumbles. He sticks the shovel in the dirt, breathing hard. “You know this really sucks. How do we even know her spell's gonna work?” he complains.

“We don't. But we ain't got a Plan B. Now, less flappin' and more diggin'” Bobby grumbles.

Dean goes to move another scoop of dirt and something cracks, “Oh, God!” he moans. Bobby just rolls his eyes. “My elbows! I'm all creaky,” he whines.

“Hurry up, you crybaby,” Bobby snaps.

“Pound it up your ass, Ironsides,” Dean snaps back.

“One little grave,” Bobby grumbles.

“Then you do it,” Dean snaps again.

“Fine,” Bobby yells, “I'll just hop right on in there!”

“Well, least your legs are numb,” Dean grumbles petulantly.

“Shut up and dig, Grandma,” Bobby replies.

Dean goes back to digging, “Oh! Now it's my back!” he yelps.

“Can you straighten up?” Bobby asks.

“Yeah,” Dean whines, “but a little sympathy wouldn't hurt.”

“Butt cheek tingling?” Bobby asks.

“Well, that's kind of personal,” Dean replies uncomfortably.

“So yeah?” Bobby answers for him. Dean looks up at him. “It's sciatica. You'll live. Keep digging.”

“You know, Bobby,” Dean snarks, “killing you is officially on my bucket list.”

~*~

Patrick is chewing on his toothpick. He has a glass of whiskey on the table, two cards in his hand, and several stacks of chips. Several chips are piled in the middle of the table next to the four of diamonds, a red court card, a black seven, the three of hearts, and a black two. Patrick takes the toothpick out. “I like you, Lizzie. I do. You're smart, and we both know you’re powerful. Your heart's clearly in the right place.” Lizzie refuses to answer to the bait. Patrick throws down his toothpick and drinks his whiskey.

Lizzie wrinkles her nose, “You know that toothpick thing is rude and disgusting, in case no one mentioned it to you before.”

Patrick swirls his drink, “I can tell a lot about a person by looking at them. Just plain good old-fashioned intuition.”

Lizzie just nods in response, “Can we just play please?”

Patrick drinks more of his whiskey, “We are playing, luv.” He puts the glass down next to the toothpick. “Does Dean know you're here?”

“Bet five,” Lizzie says and drops a stack of five chips on the pile. She has a lot fewer chips left than Patrick.

“Didn't think so,” he smirks. Patrick puts one stack of five on another and adds that stack to the pile.

“I raise,” Patrick adds. “Here you are, right? Trying to clean up their mess, and they still want to sit you on the sidelines.” Lizzie looks down. Patrick toys with a few chips, “You're not the wee little one anymore, Lizzie.” She looks up again and stares at him. “Then again, maybe you are. You're in over your head here, luv. I mean, you can keep making these moves, you know, playing it cautious, playing the percentages. But I'm still gonna kick your ass into the nursing home.”

“Does this usually work for you?” Lizzie snarks causing Patrick to laugh.

“You tell me. You're the one who's losing,” Patrick grins as he starts chewing on his toothpick again.

A little later, Patrick shuffles the cards, chewing his toothpick. He has thirty or thirty-five chips and Lizzie has about fifteen or twenty. Lizzie plays with a few of her chips. Lia walks in. Patrick puts down the toothpick and Lia leans down to kiss him. Patrick looks at Lizzie and winks, “Little break?”

~*~

Lizzie runs out of doors that read "EMMIT'S PUB DELIVERY RING". She looks around and spots Dean, “How's it going in there?” he asks.

She scoffs, “How do you think it's going? What about you? You have everything you need?”

“We still need a little he-witch DNA,” Dean says.

Lizzie holds up a toothpick, “He was chewing it.” Dean takes it. “Could you please hurry it up?”

“All right. Just keep him busy. And, Mouse...don't lose,” she scowls at him and goes back inside. Dean turns heads away, pausing to rub at his aching arm.

Lizzie plays with her chips when Patrick sits back down and Liz stands behind him. Patrick pushes the deck of cards across the table.

~*~

Behind the bar, a car drives in front of where Bobby and Dean are set up. Bobby is reading from the paper Lia gave them while Dean stands at the bowl full of burning items. “Airmidh mi air maponus, dia na hogalachd. Gairmidh mi air sucellus, dia na time.” Dean throws a handful of something in the flames, which flare up blue. Bobby continues, “Till an-dràsda obair uile gu bheilair a bhith deànta. Mar sin bitheadh. Drop it in.” Dean looks at the toothpick and adds it to the fire.

Dean waits a few minutes, “Well? How do I look?” Bobby does not reply.

~*~

Patrick watches Lizzie, “Question,” he asks as he holds up a toothpick. “Is this what you meant to give Dean?” Lizzie’s expression is carefully blank. Lia’s eyes flick to the toothpick. “The one you gave him never passed my lips. Won't do a scrap of good,” he says and throws the toothpick across the table. “I don't like cheating, Lizbeth,” Patrick stretches out his hand and clenches a fist. Lizzie watches him and stiffens. Patrick strengthens his hold on her and she grimaces but still does not fall. Patrick’s eye bulge and he gasps for air releasing Lizzie, she coughs delicately.

Lia is watching the two of them, “Stop it!” she yells pleading with Lizzie. “Please, let him go.”

Lizzie releases him and Patrick jumps up accusing, “She tried to kill us!”

“I did it!” Lia confesses, “I gave her the spell!”

Patrick is shocked and looks at Lia. Lizzie regains her composure and watches them. “What?” he touches Lia’s face. “Why...why would you do that?”

“You know why,” she whispers wetly as she touches her silver locket. “You know.”

Patrick looks away for a moment, and then sits down, “Keep playing.

~*~

Bobby is driving his van with Dean next to him. “Everything we put in that spell was kosher.”

“Yeah, everything except the damn toothpick,” Dean replies.

“You got to go get a speck of DNA. Strap on your track shoes,” Bobby says.

“Oh, goody. More stairs,” Dean scoffs.

Up in the apartment, Dean is on the phone with Bobby while he looks around Patrick and Lia’s apartment. “It's too damn clean in here. First witch I ever heard of didn't spew bodily fluids all over the place.”

“Toothbrush, comb—anything,” Bobby says.

~*~

Below in the bar, Lizzie stacks five chips next to another five next to the pile.

“Well, look at you,” Patrick sneers. “The percentage player betting the farm. Awful transparent of you, luv. I mean, if I had a monster hand like you have, I'd trap you. But, you get so excited, you bet yourself right out of a big pot. Patrick sniffs and picks up his facedown cards, “I fold.” He discards his cards. “Set of ladies, I'm guessing.”

Lizzie collects a couple dozen chips and turns over her cards: the three of clubs and five of diamonds, for one pair of queens. She stacks her chips.

“Nice bluff,” Patrick praises. “If we had time, I could make a real player out of you.”

“I’ve got time,” Lizzie states.

Patrick grins, “Maybe. But I can't say the same for your boyfriend. He’s gonna be dead soon.” Lizzie looks up and stares at him. “And when I say 'soon'...” Patrick says as he leans forward, “I mean minutes.” Lizzie’s expression changes, fearful, and she stands up. Patrick extends a fist to yank her back down with witchcraft. “The game's not over till I say it is,” he slaps down two chips and Lizzie one.

~*~

In the apartment, Dean spots a wine glass on a table, and it still has a little wine in it. He starts toward it. He groans, grabs his arm and slumps to the floor.

Out in the van, Bobby holds the phone worrying. He dials a number and waits, Dean answers gasping from the floor, “Dean?! Dean? Dean, you there?”

Back in the apartment, Dean lies on the floor, gasping weakly.

~*~

Back in the bar, Patrick deals two face-down cards apiece. Lizzie glances at his and adds another chip to the pot. “So,” Patrick starts as he slaps down three cards and spreads them out; the ace of spades and fours of hearts and clubs. Lizzie eyes the cards. “When it's about Dean, you get so emotional, your brain just flies right out the window,” Patrick illustrates with a hand gesture, “good to know.”

Lizzie smiles sweetly, “Go to hell,” she shoves all his chips into the middle, “I'm all in.

Lia glances at her and Patrick sighs, checking his cards, “Don't do that, luv.”

“I can't leave until it's over?” she snaps. “Fine. It's over. Now, where's is he?”

“Look, there's poker and then there's suicide,” Patrick says.

Lizzie sighs impatiently, “Just play the damned hand.”

Patrick adds all his chips to the pot, “Fine.” He discards a card and deals the seven of diamonds, the nine of spades, and turns over his face-down cards: aces of clubs and diamonds. “I'm sorry, kid. Aces full.”

Lizzie stares at the cards and looks up at Patrick. “It was a great hand …” Patrick moves to collect the chips; the only hands that can beat a full house with three aces are a four of a kind and a straight flush. The flop cards are three different suits, so he knows Lizzie cannot possibly have a straight flush, and he knows the odds are very slim that Lizzie has the remaining two fours. “it’s just …” Patrick looks up from reaching for the chips, “… not as great as …” she turns over her face-down cards, the fours of diamonds and spades. She knew she had a four of a kind from the moment the flop cards were dealt; the only way to beat a four of a kind is with a straight flush, which she knew Patrick could not possibly have, “as four fours.” Patrick glances up at Lizzie, then down at the cards. She takes a deep breath and lets it out.

Patrick leans back, “Well played, luv. Well played. Well, I guess there's more to you than meets the eye,” he praises as he raises his glass.

Lizzie nods to the pile of chips, “Cash these in for Dean, please.”

Patrick nods and sets down the glass, “With pleasure, luv.”

~*~

“No tricks,” Bobby asks, “you actually beat the guy?” Lizzie shrugs nonchalantly. “How the hell?”

Lizzie smirks, “Just lucky, I guess,” she says and bites her bottom lip, “and really good with numbers.” Bobby snorts with laughter as Lizzie turns to grab her jacket and heads for the door, passing Dean who is on the way in with a burger, “I'll see y'all guys in a little bit.”

“Where you going?” Dean asks.

“Umm …” she says blushing and biting her lip as she stares at Bobby.

Dean looks at Bobby. He squirms in his wheelchair, “She’s gotta go get my last booster shot,” he mumbles as Dean snorts, “Don't say it,” he snaps as Lizzie grins and leaves. Dean comes in and puts his burger down. Bobby groans, Well, I guess we can get the van loaded.”

Dean holds up a finger and clears his throat, “I shouldn't have called you an idiot,” he apologizes.

“Which time?” Bobby asks.

“I'm sorry. I mean, I actually … I, I—I get it. Getting old ain't a bachelor party. And dealing with the crap you got to deal with …” Dean tries to explain.

“Don't you go on pity patrol,” Bobby grumbles.

“I'm not. I'm not. I'm just ... I'm saying, you know, if I was in your shoes...” Dean tries again.

“You'd never stop complaining,” Bobby snaps.

Dean stares for a moment, “Fair enough,” he agrees. “Look, you're not useless, Bobby.”

“Okay. Good talk,” Bobby replies sarcastically as he goes to roll away. Dean steps in his path.

“No Bobby,” he says, “now, wait a minute and listen to me,” Dean sits down and sighs. “You don't stop being a soldier 'cause you got wounded in battle. Okay? No matter what shape you're in, bottom line is, you're family. I don't know if you've noticed, but I …. I, I don't have much left. I can't do this without you. I can't. So don't you dare think about checking out; I don't want to hear that again.”

There was a long silence and Bobby replies, “Okay.”

“Okay. Good.” Dean says relieved.

“Thanks. Now, we done feeling our feelings? 'Cause I'd like to get out of this room before we both start growing lady parts,” Bobby grumbles.

Dean laughs, “Yeah, we're done.” H gets up. He picks up his burger, looks at it, and puts it back down. He picks up his bag. “Let's go, Ironsides,” Dean says as he slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.

“Oh, that one's sticking, huh?” Bobby gripes as Dean looks back, smiling, and leaves. Bobby sighs and rolls out after him.

~*~

Dean is watching Lizzie get herself together for her shower. He is lying under the covers in his boxers. She goes into the bathroom and he can hear the shower running.

"Okay man, you can do this," he reassures himself. "I know we had a scare earlier today, but come on you're Dean Winchester, this is what you do. And you," he points at his penis, "have never let me down … well there was that one time with the triplets in Fort Wayne, but even the best of us have to recharge every once in a while little man," he says with a devious grin.

Lizzie comes out wrapped in a towel and catches his grin, "What're you smilin' about?" she grins.

"Da-nah-nuh-nuh, Da-nah-nuh-nuh …. Batman …" he sings to her and crosses his arms under his head with a smirk.

"Oh Thank God!" Lizzie exclaims and pounces on him kissing and laughing as he rolls her over and takes control of the kiss.

~*~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the actual dialog during Season 5 has been used, transcripts of which can be found at Supernatural Wiki. I transcribe verbatim for a living and you guys are awesome for doing this. I thought I was going to have to do it and it turned out to be a huge timesaver.

~*~

Dean is sitting on a bed one of the nameless motels that he frequents watching TV, rapt completely by the scene in front of him. Lizzie walks in wearing a casual dress suit holding Dean’s suit jacket, “What are you watching?”

Dean nervously fiddles with the remote, “Hospital show. Dr. Sexy, MD. I think it's based on a book,” he explains.

“Oh! Is that on? I watch it every once in a while with Johnny. He loves that show,” she says with a grin. Dean rights the remote and turns off the TV. He walks over and retrieves his jacket and kisses her lightly on the lips in thanks. She smiles up at him and caresses his cheek. “You ready?” she asks and he nods, grabbing his keys and they walk out.

~*~

The officer asks in frustration, “One more time, the FBI is here why, exactly?”

Dean rolls his eyes and says, “Might have something to do with one of your locals getting his head ripped off.”

“Bill Randolph died from a bear attack,” the officer explains.

“How sure are you that it was a bear?” Lizzie asks making notes.

“What else would it be?” the officer asked incredulously.

“Well, whatever it was it chased Mr. Randolph through the woods, smashed through his front door, followed him up the stairs, and killed him in his bedroom. Is that common, a bear doing all that?” Dean tries to ask patiently.

“Depends how pissed off it is, I guess,” the officer snarks, “Look, the Randolphs live way up in high country. You got trout runs to make a grown man weep, as well as bears.

“Right,” Lizzie replies referring to her notes. “Now, what about Mrs. Randolph? The file says she witnessed the whole thing.”

“Yes, she did,” he confirms. “My heart goes out to that poor woman.”

“She said bear,” Dean asks.

“Kathy Randolph went through a hell of a trauma. She's confused,” the officer tries to explain.

“What did she say, exactly?” Lizzie asks.

~*~

The officer shows Lizzie and Dean to the interview room and they sit with Kathy Randolph, “No, it must have been a bear,” she says. “I mean, what else could it have been?” she reiterates nervously.

Lizzie tries to calm her, “Mrs. Randolph, what do you think it was?”

“No, I, I remember clearly now,” she says, “It was definitely a bear.”

“We're sure it was,” Dean placates the nervous woman, “But see, it helps us to hear every angle. So just tell us what you thought you saw.”

“It's impossible, but...I could have sworn I saw...the Incredible Hulk,” she replies nervously.

“The Incredible Hulk?” Lizzie does a double take and asks.

“I told you it was crazy,” she says defeated.

Dean thinks about it for a minute “Bana or Norton?” he asks.

“Oh, no,” Kathy exclaims, “those movies were terrible. The TV Hulk.”

“Lou Ferrigno?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says.

“Spiky-hair Lou Ferrigno?” Dean asks.

“Yes,” Kathy clarifies.

“Huh,” Dean murmurs and he and Lizzie look at each other.

“You think I'm crazy,” she worries.

“No. Uh, no, it's just...is there, uh, would there be any reason that Lou Ferrigno, the Incredible Hulk, would have a grudge against your husband?” Dean asks hesitantly.

“No.” she states.

~*~

Lizzie is at her laptop, looking at an article in the Wellington Guardian about a "Local man killed in bear attack". She looks up when Dean walks in, “Hey,” she says. “Find anything?”

“Well, uh, I saw the house,” he replies. Lizzie glares at him and waits. “And there is a giant eight-foot-wide hole where the front door used to be. Almost like, uh …”

“A Hulk-sized hole?” Lizzie prompts.

“Maybe. What do you got?” he asks.

“Well, it turns out that Bill Randolph had quite the temper. He's got two counts of spousal battery, bar brawls, and court-ordered anger management sessions. You might say you wouldn't like him when he's angry,” she says.

“So a hothead getting killed by TV's greatest hothead. Kinda sounds like just desserts, doesn't it?” Dean snorts to himself. “It's all starting to make sense,” he says and pulls a handful of candy wrappers out of his pocket. “I found lots of these at the crime scene.”

“How is that starting to make this any sort of sense?” Lizzie questions.

“Just desserts, sweet tooth, screwing with people before you kill 'em,” he explains, “I think, we're dealing with the Trickster.”

“A Trickster? Really?” Lizzie says warming to the idea. “I mean I’ve read about them, but to actually come across one,” she stops remembering something, “Um, didn’t you guys have a run in with one before?”

“Yeah,” Dean mutters. “I've wanted to gank that mother since Mystery Spot.”

“Are you sure?” Lizzie asks.

“Of course I’m sure,” Dean snaps. “What he did … what it did to …” Dean stops and clears his throat thinking about Sammy. “Yeah I'm sure,” he says finally.

“No,” Lizzie sighs, “I mean are you sure you wanna kill him?”

“Son of a bitch didn't think twice about icing me a thousand times,” Dean growls.

“I'm just saying …” Lizzie tries to explain.

“What are you saying? If I’m not gonna kill him, then what?” Dean snaps.

Lizzie huffed and glared at his tone, “Talk to him?”

“What?” Dean yells.

“Think about it, Dean. He's one of the most powerful creatures you guys have come across. Maybe we can use him.” Lizzie explains.

“For what?” he exclaims.

“Okay, from what I’ve read, the Trickster's like a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, and song … maybe he doesn't want the party to end. Maybe he hates this angels and demons stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us,” she says.

“You're serious,” he asks. She nods in response. “Ally with the Trickster?” Dean clarifies. Lizzie rolls her eyes at him and nods again. “A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him?”

“Yes! Fine!” Lizzie snaps and flails her arms about. “I get the point D, you’re not happy about this, but let’s be realistic. It’s the end of the world, babe, we don't have the luxury of taking a moral stand in this. Look, all I’m sayin’ is it's worth a shot. That's all. If it doesn't work, you can kill him, k?”

Dean sighs and nods, “Well, he never takes just one victim. He'll show.

~*~

Dean is sharpening a wooden stake and Lizzie is monitoring the police scanner while working on the computer.

The scanner comes to life, “Um, Dispatch? I, I got a possible 187 out here at the old paper mill on Route 6?” Lizzie perks up and looks over at Dean who stops working and focuses on the scanner.

“Roger that. What are you looking at there, son?” dispatch replies.

“Honestly, Walt, I, I wouldn't even know how to describe what I'm seeing. Just send everybody,” the panicked voice comes across the scanner.

“All right, stay calm, stay by your car. Help's on the way,” dispatch replies.

Lizzie looks over at Dean and asks, “Is that weird enough to be our guy?”

~*~

The impala pulls up outside a nondescript warehouse at the address given over the scanner. Dean and Lizzie get out of the Impala. There is no one else in sight. Lizzie looks around, “So, there was a murder here, and there's no police cars. There's nobody. How's that look to you?”

“Weird,” Dean replies. Dean walks around and pops the trunk. He removes two stakes and two flashlights out of the trunk and hands one of each to Lizzie. He closes the trunk and they enter the building. “You stay behind me,” he warns her. “if anything goes down, let me handle it,” she rolls her eyes in response but nods in agreement.

They walk through the door into the interior of the hospital. Dean is dressed in a lab coat and scrubs and Lizzie is dressed in nurse’s scrubs. Theme music starts to play in the background. “What the hell?” Dean says.

A blonde and an Asian doctor pass by acknowledging each other, “Doctor.”

“Doctor?” Dean asks as the music continues to play through. He opens the door they just entered which leads to a janitor's closet where a man and a woman are making out. He quickly closes the door looking freaked out.

A brunette doctor turns away from the receptionist’s desk and approaches Dean. “Hey, isn’t that …” Lizzie points and asks, as the doctor gets closer.

“Doctor,” she says and slaps Dean who grunts in pain. “Seriously?” she demands.

“What?” Dean asks in confusion rubbing his sore cheek.

“Seriously?” she demands again. “You're brilliant, you know that? And a coward. You're a brilliant coward,” she finishes passionately as the music still continues to play in the background.

Lizzie starts looking around, “Where’s that music coming from? It sounds just like …”

Dean ignores Lizzie and asks, “What’re you talkin’ about lady?”

She slaps him again harder; “As if you don't know!” she tells him and stomps off.

It dawns on Dean why this is so familiar as he gawks after the brunette and then looks around as if he is seeing his dream come true, “I don't believe this,” he murmurs. “That's Dr. Piccolo, Dr. Ellen Piccolo. The sexy yet earnest doctor at … Seattle Mercy Hospital,” he exclaims after looking at the sign behind the receptionist's desk and gestures at it, reading it aloud.

Lizzie looks around again, and up at the ceiling, “That is the music for Dr. Sexy, M.D. Wait? How are we in Dr. Sexy, M.D.?

Dean and Lizzie walk through the hospital corridors. “What the hell?” Dean grumbles.

“I don’t know,” Lizzie asks looking back and forth.

“No, seriously, Mouse what the hell?” he panics.

“I _don't_ know,” she snaps.

“One theory. Any theory,” he begs her.

“Uh, the Trickster trapped us in TV Land,” she says.

“That's your theory?” he mocks. “That's stupid.”

“Do you have any better ideas Einstein?” she snaps.

“Yeah, but TV Land isn't TV Land. I mean, there's actors and, and lights and crewmembers, you know. This looks real,” Dean says in exasperation.

An Asian doctor walks by, “Doctor,” she says curtly.

“There goes Dr. Wang, the sexy but arrogant heart surgeon,” Dean explains as he watches her go down the corridor and sees her pass a man sitting on a gurney. “And there's Johnny Drake. Oh, he's not even alive, he's a ghost in the mind of …” another brunette doctor enters, sitting next to Johnny, “Of her, the sexy yet neurotic Dr. Overthere.”

Lizzie smirks at him, “I thought you said you weren't a fan,”

“I'm not. I'm not,” he insists but he sees something and just stares. “Oh boy,” he mumbles.

“What?” Lizzie asks looking around.

“It's him,” Dean breathes.

“Who?” Lizzie exclaims looking all around.

Dr. Palmer comes down the corridor. “It's him. It's Dr. Sexy,” Dean sighs.

Dr. Palmer stops next to Lizzie and Dean. He looks at Dean, “Doctor.”

Dean looks down, hiding his smile and his blush. Lizzie whacks him in the arm, “Doctor,” he mumbles.

“You want to give me one good reason why you defied my direct order to do the experimental face transplant on Mrs. Biehl?” Dr. Palmer asks Dean.

Dean’s expression goes from awed to confused. He glances at Lizzie and then back again, “O-One reason?” Dr. Palmer nods. “Sure,” he gushes and looks down. Dr. Palmer is wearing white tennis shoes. Dean looks up infuriated and slams him against the wall. “You're not Dr. Sexy.”

“You're crazy.” Dr. Palmer laughs.

“Really? Because I swore part of what makes Dr. Sexy, sexy, is the fact that he wears cowboy boots. Not tennis shoes.

“I call bullshit,” Lizzie laughs, “yeah, and you're not a fan, you totally had a fanboy moment just now,” she mocks.

“It's a guilty pleasure,” Dean growls.

Dr. Palmer calmly asks one of the interns, “Call security.”

“Yeah, go ahead, pal. See, we know who you are,” Dean threatens. Dr. Wang, the blonde doctor and a security guard are all approaching when suddenly everything freezes. Dean glances around; only he and Dr. Palmer are still moving.

Dr. Palmer grins and morphs into the Trickster. “You’re getting better!” he praises.

“What did you do to Lizzie?” Dean demands looking from her frozen figure back at the Trickster.

“Relax Dean-o, she’s fine. I thought just us guys should chat for a bit,” he grins.

“Get us the hell out of here,” Dean growls through his teeth.

“Or what?” he asks as he grabs Dean’s arm and twists, hurting him. “Don't say you have wooden stakes there big guy.”

“That was you on the police scanner?” Dean asks, “That was all a trick?”

“Hello?” he exaggerates with his finger circling his face, “Trickster. Come on! I heard you were in town. How could I resist?”

“Where the hell are we?” he demands.

“Like it?” the Trickster asks walking around with pride over his creation. “It's all homemade. My own sets,” the Trickster raps on the window in a nearby door, then indicates the frozen extras, “My own actors ... call it my own little idiot box.”

“How do we get out?” Dean asks.

“That, my friend, is the sixty-four-dollar question,” the Trickster replies.

“We just wanted to talk to you, well Lizzie did. We need your help,” Dean says.

The Trickster thinks about it for a second and says, “Hm, let me guess. You and your brother broke the world, and you want me to sweep up your mess. Tell you what, survive the next twenty-four hours, and we'll talk.”

“Survive what?” Dean snaps.

“The game!” the Trickster exclaims sticking out his arms displaying his playground.

“What game?” Dean asks getting annoyed.

“You're in it,” he answers.

“How do we play?” Dean questions through gritted teeth.

“You're playing it,” he replies with a smirk.

“What are the rules?” Dean growls. The Trickster raises his eyebrows, grins, and vanishes in a burst of static. Everything resumes again. “Oh, son of a bitch!” Dean yells to the ceiling.

“Hey!” Lizzie looks back and forth and turns around, “Where’d he go? What’s happening?”

The blonde doctor looks around in confusion, “Dr. Sexy? Dr. Sexy?” as she walks past.

Dean storms off down the corridor snapping over his shoulder, “Oh, by the way. Talking with monsters? Hell of a plan.”

“Well what happened?” she asks jogging after him to keep up, “I mean one minute he’s there and the next he’s gone. Did he say anything? What is all this? What do we do now?”

“You know what I'm doing?” he says marching faster, “Leaving.” Dr. Piccolo appears and takes another swing at Dean, who ducks. “What the hell lady?”

“You are a brilliant, brilliant …” she implores him.

Dean rolls his eyes, “Yeah. A coward. You already said that. But I got news for you. I am not a doctor.”

Music starts playing again in the background again, “Don't say that,” Dr. Piccolo begs grasping his face with one hand and squeezing so he makes the grotesque distorted image of a blowfish, “You are the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met, and I have met plenty. So that girl died on your table. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. Sometimes people just die.”

Dean gapes at her in confusion and mild horror, “Look, I don’t know what you're talking about.”

Dr. Piccolo releases his face and strokes his cheek, “You're afraid. You're afraid to operate again. And you're afraid to love,” she sobs walking away.

“Yeah, we're gettin’ the hell outta here,” Dean says.

The music begins again, “What is it with the music in this place?” Lizzie complains again looking around. “Dean! What is going on?”

A man steps in front of Dean, “Hey Doc.”

Dean stops and grudgingly replies to him, “Yeah.”

“It’s my wife, doc. She really needs that face transplant,” the man tries to explain.

“Okay. You know what, pal?” Dean snaps in agitation. “None of this is real, and your wife doesn't need jack squat. Okay?”

Dean pulls Lizzie after him down the corridor, “Hey Doc!” the man yells as he raises a gun aiming for Dean and he misses hitting Lizzie in the back.

She stares straight ahead, “It’s real … it’s pretty fuckin’ … real” she gasps slumping to her knees.

Dean panics, “No no no, no no no no no—hey! We need a doctor!” he yells trying to hold Lizzie up looking around frantically.

Everything blacks out and then Lizzie finds herself facedown on an operating room table staring through a headrest at several pairs of white tennis shoes. “They can shut off that retarded playback anytime now, it’s freakin annoying!” she complains.

Dr. Wang passes an operating instrument to another doctor. Dean is dressed in operating scrubs, as is everyone else in the room. Dr. Piccolo is watching through glass. Dean holds something absorbent against Lizzie's injury with a pair of clamps.

“BP is eighty over fifty and dropping,” the blonde doctor says.

“Doctor,” Dr. Wang says to Dean holding out a scalpel.

Dean shakes his head and grimaces at the scalpel not taking it. He leans over and speaks in an undertone. “I don't know how to use any of this crap.”

“Well I can’t see what’s going on, so you’re gonna have to figure it out,” she snaps. Dean grins awkwardly at the other doctors but doesn't do anything. “Come on D, you can do this. You’ve patched Sammy from a lot worse than this.”

Dean takes a deep breath, “Um, uh. Okay. Um. I need a penknife, some dental floss, a sewing needle, and a fifth of whiskey.” The other doctors look at him and each other. “Stat!”

Everyone starts moving around to get him what he asks for. Next, there is a mostly-empty bottle of Kentucky Bourbon and a container of dental floss next to the usual surgical tools and Dean is snipping off the extra floss.

“How ya’ doin?” Lizzie asks.

“Yep. You'll be fine,” he says. Dean looks up and catches sight of Dr. Piccolo, who mouths 'I love you' pressing her hand against the window and sighs, smiling. Dean nervously smiles and quickly looks away. Lizzie groans from the table. “You okay?” Dean asks.

“I’m fine other than this cheesy freakin music. Seriously, can’t you hear that?” she says watching the doctor’s shoes. They move away and the lighting and texture shift, the music fades, and the light starts to flash in time with clapping. Shouts. The floor has become two doors, which slide apart.

Behind the doors is blue-lit smoke. A Japanese man comes out of the doors and forward between two Japanese women. Dean and Lizzie are in more usual outfits. The Japanese man says something in Japanese, “Let's play Nutcracker!”

The crowd cheers and applauds. Dean looks around. He is standing in shoes glued to a platform that has a slot for a pole with a large ball at the end. Lizzie is standing next to Dean on a circular platform with blinking light. The are both looking at each other and all around in confusion. To one side is an LED screen that says "20". The host says something in Japanese and pulls cards out of his jacket and silence falls and he asks in Japanese, “What was the name of the demon Dean's brother chose over him?” he says waving at the LED screen, “Countdown.”

“Whh-hat?" Dean stutters. The screen begins to tick down the seconds. “Uh, what am I supposed to say?” he looks in panic at Lizzie before he addressed the host, “Uh, I, I don't, I don't understand Japanese,” he says loudly to which the host repeats the question, in Japanese.

Dean looks at the pole with the large ball at the end. “Oni? What’s Oni mean?? Meishou is name … ? But, I don’t …” Lizzie mutters to herself.

Dean finally realizes what Lizzie is saying. “You speak Japanese?” he yells in shock.

“Well, yeah … kinda I mean I was bored and …” she tries to explain.

“Mouse! What’s he sayin’?” he panics looking between the countdown and the lever.

“Oh, Well, he wants to the name of Oni, whatever that is, that Sammy chose …” The screen hits "0" and a buzzer rings.

The host says in Japanese, “The answer is... Ruby! I'm sorry, Dean Winchester.”

“Sorry? For what?” Dean says. The host mimes hiding laughter. Dean panics, “Lizzie?” The pole comes up so that the ball whacks Dean in the crotch. Lizzie cringes in sympathy and the crowd cheers.

The host yells, “Nutcracker!” The scene replays from several angles. The Japanese caption flashes and the host yells again, “Nutcracker!”

Lizzie bends over and leans forward, "Dean?" she asks cautiously. He makes an inarticulate noise. "Are you okay?" He just looks at her with a pained look on his face. "I think we've gotta play the game D, like with Dr. Sexy. You played a doctor and we got out to this. Maybe that's what your Trickster wants, us to play along?"

One of the Japanese women says something in Japanese and the host goes over to her. She shows off a bag of chips. "Have we discussed these?" she asks.

"Nutritious Shrimp Chips? Lots of nutrition, tastes great... and the more one eats, the slimmer they get, just like you," the host says to the woman and they both laugh and giggle until the Japanese woman requests that everyone buy them.

The light on the doors starts flashing again. "Oh Christ, now what?" Lizzie snarks. The doors open to reveal Castiel and the crowd cheers. "Cas?" she exclaims.

"Is this another trick?" Dean huffs out painfully.

"It's me," Castiel says, "Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Us?" Lizzie asks, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he replies. "You've been missing for days."

"So get us the hell out of here, then!" Dean yells through his teeth.

He looks back and forth between the two of them, "Let's go," he says as he raises his arms to touch both Dean and Lizzie on the forehead and vanishes in a burst of static.

"Cas?" Dean calls out looking back and forth from his immobilized position.

The host comes back to center stage, "No, no, no, no. Mr. Trickster does not like pretty-boy angels," he states and pulls out another card and speaks in Japanese, "Dean Winchester. Would your Mother and Father still be alive... if your brother was never born? Countdown!"

The screen begins to tick down the seconds from "20".

"What! What do I do, what do I do?" he yells at Lizzie. "What'd he say?" when he looks at Lizzie, she's a little pale.

"You gotta play along D ... like a game show. Answer the question," she tells him.

"In Japanese?" he yells, "I don't know Japanese!" She shrugs in response. "Dammit!" he snaps his face a stone mask as he hits the button. The countdown freezes just before the buzz.

Lizzie replies in Japanese, "The answer is... yes."

The host repeats the last few syllables as he looks back and forth between Lizzie and Dean. Dean repeats the last few syllables of what they say. The host shouts something in Japanese. Dean braces himself. "Dean Winchester, Nutcracker champion!" The crowd cheers.

Dean breaths a sigh of relief and smiles hugely. "So that's it. We play our roles, we survive. But," he asks Lizzie, "for how long?" Lizzie shakes her head with a shrug and watches the crowd. Dean forces a grin and waves.

 **_Remote Control Click_ **

The scene opens at the Sun 'N Sands Motel. In the background, Dean says, "Supernatural is filmed before a live studio audience." Next, Dean is standing in a bright motel room, he puts some things in a refrigerator, closes the fridge, and turns around. The audience applauses. There is a sandwich on the table, about a foot tall. "I'm gonna need a bigger mouth." A laugh track plays. Lizzie enters the room and the audience applauses again. Dean greets her, "Hey Lizzie, what's goin on?"

"Oh not much, just the end of the world," she replies. The laugh track plays again. She sees the sandwich and says, "You're gonna need a bigger mouth." The laugh track plays. Dean looks at her nodding with a look like, 'I know right?' Lizzie looks around and approaches Dean, "Hey, uh, have you done your research yet?"

Dean gets a 'busted' look on his face, "Research?" The laugh track runs, "Oh, yeah. All kinds of research. All night."

The bathroom door opens and a woman in a pink and black lace lingerie set comes out. Wolf whistles can be heard on the laugh track. "Oh, Dean..." she says. Dean's eyes get huge as he turns and looks at the woman. Lizzie looks at her and scowls darkly at Dean. He turns back as if he has been caught red handed with a goofy, apologetic smile, "We have some more research to do," the lingeried brunette says seductively.

Lizzie clenches her jaw tightly and tries to play along, "Dean ..." she tries to chastise visibly fuming. The laugh track can be heard running back.

Dean looks out at the presumed audience and exclaims, "Son of a bitch!" The laugh track continues with applause.

Lizzie goes over to the lingerie woman, glaring over her shoulder at Dean, "I am really, really, very sorry, but, uh, we've got a lot of work to do," she tells the woman as she escorts her to the door.

The woman follows along in confusion, "But we did do work! In depth work," she explains seductively as she leers at Dean in passing. Dean nervously waves and smiles crookedly as the laugh track plays through. Lizzie slams the door in the lingeried woman's face and shakes her head.

Dean speaks through a forced smile, "How long do we have to keep doing this?"

Lizzie walks over to Dean smiling nervously at the invisible audience with the running laugh track, "I don't know," more applause follows, "Maybe forever?" The laugh track continues, "We might die in here," she says as the laugh track gets louder.

Dean snaps, "How was that funny? Vultures," he exclaims. The laugh track continues even louder and the door opens. Castiel stumbles through with minor injuries. More applause, which Dean ignores as he goes to check on Castiel, "You okay?"

'I don't have much time," he explains.

"What happened?" Lizzie asks.

"I got out," Castiel explains impatiently.

"From where?" Dean asks.

Castiel sighs heavily, "Listen to me. Something is not right. This thing is much more powerful than it should be."

Dean looks incredulously at him, "What thing—the Trickster?"

"If it is a trickster," he replies.

"What do you mean?" Dean asks. Suddenly, Castiel is flung backwards into the wall, his face hidden.

The Trickster appears jovially at the door, "Hello!" he exclaims to applause and cheers. Castiel gets up; his mouth has been duct-taped shut. "Thank you. Thank you, ladies," he continues. Castiel glares at the Trickster to which he happily greets, "Hi, Castiel!" before he flicks his fingers and Castiel vanishes in a burst of static.

"Where did you just send him?" Dean demands.

"Relax," the Trickster calms, "he'll live," he ponders, "...Maybe." The laugh track plays through.

"All right, you know what? I am done with the monkey dance, okay? We get it," he says glancing over at Lizzie. She is frozen in place again. "Why do you keep doing that to her," Dean yells.

The Trickster smiles, "She can't see me just yet," he clarifies, "Now, what exactly do you get hotshot?"

"Playing our roles, right? That's your game?" Dean says to the Trickster as he looks worriedly at an immobile Lizzie.

The Trickster replies smoothly drawing Dean's attention back to him, "That's half the game."

"What's the other half?" he asks nervously.

"Play your roles out there," the Trickster goads.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean snaps.

"Oh, you know. Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael. Your celebrity death match. Play your roles," the Trickster cajoles.

"You want me to say yes to those sons of bitches?" Dean asks.

"Hells yeah. Let's light this candle!" he replies merrily.

"We do that, the world will end," Dean reminds him.

"Yeah? And whose fault is that Dean-o? Who broke the first seal? Who popped Lucifer out of the box? Hmmm? Look, it's started. You started it. It can't be stopped. So let's get it over with!" he clarifies.

Dean glares at him, "Heaven or hell, which side you on?"

"I'm not on either side," the Trickster smiles acidly.

"Yeah, right. You're grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer. Which one is it?" Dean pushes.

"You listen to me, you arrogant dick," he snarls, "I don't work for either of those S.O.B.s. Believe me."

"Oh, you're somebody's bitch," Dean snarks.

The Trickster's smile vanishes. He grabs Dean by the collar and slams him into the wall. "Don't you ever, ever presume to know what I am. Now listen very closely. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna suck it up, accept your responsibility, and play the role that destiny has chosen for you."

"And if we don't?" Dean grits out.

The Trickster grins, "Then you'll stay here in TV Land. Forever. Three hundred channels and, uh, nothing's on," and he snaps his fingers.

~*~

A commercial begins to play with an opening scene of a woman doing a yoga pose in front of a lake, "I've got genital herpes."

The scene changes to an interior of a house. An old man sits on a couch, "I've got genital herpes."

The scene changes again to show a basketball court with two men and two women playing basketball. One makes a basket and turns around, it's Dean, "Seriously?"

Lizzie runs up behind, "Gotta play the roles D," she singsongs trying not to giggle.

"Yeah. Right." he grumbles. Lizzie slaps his butt and runs back to join the game. "I've got genital herpes," Dean says uncomfortably with a dark blush.

The scene changes again showing the woman sitting in another yoga pose, "I try to be responsible," she says.

Another scene change to the old man as he looks at the older woman sitting next to him, "Did I try," he says.

The scene goes back to the basketball court and Dean, "But now I take twice-daily Herpexia to reduce my chances of passing it on."

The scene returns to the woman at the lake, "Ask your doctor about using Herpexia." The scene alternates between the interior of the house and the lake. The old man and woman are slow dancing. The woman at the lake changes into yet another pose.

In the background, you can hear Lizzie say, "Patients should always consult with a physician before using Herpexia. Possible side effects include headache, diarrhea, permanent erectile dysfunction, thoughts of suicide, and nausea." The scene returns to the basketball court to Dean, "I am doing all I can to slightly lessen the spread of—of genital herpes. And that's a good thing." Dean returns to the game and the Herpexia logo appears.

 **_Remote Control Click_ **

Lizzie walks into a set after a fade-in. She is dressed in a Donna Reid dress and the house is styled out of the fifties. She stops abruptly and looks around when the doorbell rings and Dean is standing on the other side with a briefcase and a large vacuum cleaner. "Excuse ma'am, but are you the lady of the house?" He is wearing a sharkskin suit, his hair is slicked underneath a fedora and he has black horned rim glasses on.

"Why yes, yes I am …" she replies opening the door to let him in.

 **_Remote Control Click_ **

The scene has changed to a seventies bachelorette apartment complete with shag carpeting and yellow and lime green furniture. Someone is knocking at the door. Lizzie rolls in the room on roller skates. She slams into the door, "Son of a …" she growls as she slides down to the floor.

"I have not been on skates in years. Are you kidding me?" she yells at the ceiling. She edges herself shakily up and opens the door.

Dean is standing on the other side. He is wearing a shiny windbreaker, bellbottom jeans, a greasy ball cap that says _Gino's_ on it. He has a cheesy mustache and is carrying a pizza box, "Did somebody order the sausage?" he says leering at Lizzie's outfit.

"Eewww Dean. Gross," she jeers, then looks down, and gasps trying to cover herself up. She is wearing shiny satin short shorts and an elastic tube top. She looks at the mirror on the wall that is opposite her. She sees that she's wearing blue eye shadow, bright red lipstick, false eyelashes and cotton candy pink blush on her cheeks with her hair up in two high pigtails. "What the fuck?" she grimaces.

"I think these are pornos," Dean says under his breath to her.

"Really? Ya' think? Seriously! I mean come on! Look at me! I look ridiculous," she yells up at the ceiling.

 **_Remote Control Click_ **

The scene changes to a classroom. Lizzie steps out from behind her desk, "Now Dean, she begins. "We really need to discuss your poor attendance and failing grades." She is in a tight straight black skirt that runs to the midcalf, but there is a slit up the side to her mid thigh. She is wearing four-inch stilettos, a black blazer buttoned over a white satin corset. Her hair is tied back in a tight bun. She is wearing her glasses and is holding a ruler.

There are various school desks scattered around the room and a bookshelf in the back with a flag hanging in the corner. A general homework assignment is scrawled on the blackboard behind Lizzie.

Dean is backed up against the wall near the classroom door dressed in a varsity football jacket, jeans, a T-Shirt and sneakers. "Come on now man, this one's not fair," he mumbles.

Lizzie stops in the middle of the room twirling the ruler against her pointer finger, "I don’t know D, I kinda like this one," she grins evilly as she sashays over to him.

"Mouse, this isn’t funny … now come on, we have to focus and get outta here …" he squeaks as she nips sharply at his neck and rubs his cock with the back of the ruler. "Change the channel …. Change the channel …. Change the fuckin' …."

 **_Remote Control Click_ **

###  _Day-Z Motel_

Dean finishes brushing his teeth and spits. "I'm worried," he mutters wiping off his hands and mouth on a towel. "What that SOB did to Cas. You know, where is he?" There is no response. "Lizzie?" he calls looking around the room. It's empty. "Babe? Where'd you go?"

Dean leaves the room and locks the door. He heads for the Impala with his phone to his ear. He get's Lizzie's voicemail as he gets into the car. "Lizzie. It's me. Where the hell did you go?" he hisses into the phone before he snaps the phone shut.

"Dean?" Lizzie says. Her voice sounds odd. Dean looks around but she is not in the car.

"Uh? Lizzie? Where are you?" he asks.

"I, I don't know," she replies. Dean notices a red light on the dashboard. It flashes in time with Lizzie's words. The Knight Rider theme plays. "Oh shit," Lizzie mumbles. The Impala has acquired red flashing lights under the front grille that Dean can see reflecting off the wall of the hotel. Dean pulls out and drives to clear his head.

"Okay, maybe it's not a trickster?" Lizzie suggests form the console.

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

"I mean you heard Cas. He said this thing was too powerful to be a trickster," she reasons.

"And the way he looked at Cas? It was almost like he knew him," Dean offers. "He got really pissed when I brought up Michael and Lucifer," Dean ponders then snaps, "Son of a bitch," and slaps the steering wheel.

"Ouch! Watch it," Lizzie snaps.

"I think I know what we're dealing with," he says turning the car around and gunning it back up the road.

###  _Centennial Point Wilderness Area_

Dean rummages in the trunk of the car. "Hey watch it back there," Lizzie snaps. He stops rummaging for a minute. "I feel so violated," Lizzie snarks. Dean snickers and slams the trunk. "Damn it Dean! This is not funny! I am so kicking your ass when I get outta here," she grumbles. You sure this is gonna work?" she asks.

"No, but I have no other ideas," he says honestly. He goes to the front of the car and shouts at the sky. "All right, you son of a bitch! Uncle! I'll do it!"

The Trickster appearing from nowhere. "You ready to go quietly?"

"Yeah sure," Dean gripes, "Just one thing," he holds up his flaming lighter and tosses it down on the ground. A ring of fire springs up around the Trickster. "Ya' see, I have a theory. You're not really the Trickster."

"Really," The Trickster rolls his eyes, "So what am I then big guy?"

The car door of the Impala opens and Lizzie steps out, "An angel," she says softly. She walks forward and steps over the ring of fire.

"What the hell're you doin' Mouse!" Dean yells.

She stands in front of The Trickster and looks at Dean over her shoulder, "He's not gonna hurt me D," she tells him.

She rests her hand on the Trickster's cheek. Her eyes water when she wraps her arms around him and buries her nose in his shoulder. He still smells like warm chocolate and caramels. She smiles at the memory and says his name, "Gabriel."

The Archangel Gabriel wraps his arms around Lizzie’s waist and mumbles, “Hey pumpkin,” in her temple. 

 _To Be Continued …._

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by [reapertownusa](http://reapertownusa.livejournal.com/41947.html)


End file.
